The Halo
by Ivan Alias
Summary: Another Halo story inspired by Bombsquad. This time, the Imperial rule from Dune encounters an unexpected device floating in space. Rating changed for the violence and such like. Sorry.
1. Close Encounters

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. This is a fanfic based on the idea of 'Far Flung Hope', by Bombsquad. This story does not necessarily correspond with Bombsquad's plan. Please remember that. Finally, unlike my previous 'FFH' fanfics, this human race is not the Imperium of Man, but the Imperial rule from Dune.  
  
Also, I am writing about a time well past Maud'dib's rule. This is a period when the universe has calmed down slightly. Also, the Sardaukar are back, mainly because, let's be frank, they have such a cool name.  
  
Kudos to those who spot the small in-jokes.  
  
Let it begin...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
There it was, in space. A giant ring, lazily spinning around in space, just in orbit around the larger gas giant. The inside of it was a habitable world of trees and grasslands. It was indeed a Halo.  
  
The universe it inhabited was unusual from all of the other Halos in the parallel existences in that the humans in this reality had completely conquered, explored and exploited the entire universe. There was not one star system or special anomaly undiscovered by these humans. They had become the ultimate rulers.  
  
Thus it was more than slightly unusual when an artificial world of an unknown design had spontaneously appeared from nowhere. The system it was in had been explored many a time before. But back then, it had not been there. Now, it was.  
  
Hence there was a large public outcry. Members of the Houses Major and Minor had sent in agents to investigate. The Emperor, spurred on by the Bene Gesserit School, made a declaration stating that no-one was to land on the planet without further planning. The Spacing Guild enforced this rule by making premiums to the system astronomical in expense. Hence all agents were withdrawn from the area, and the system was effectively put into a casual quarantine.  
  
Meanwhile, the Emperor and CHOAM tried to wrangle some answers out of the Bene Gesserit. Why had they demanded to prevent any landings by any of the Houses? Why had the Spacing Guild made premiums so high? Was there some sort of connection? The Bene Gesserit, in their usual secretive manner, provided no straight answer. The Spacing Guild refused to comment. Silence was all that met the Emperor's ears. Two weeks passed... three weeks... four, then the Bene Gesserit broke the silence.  
  
They stated that the ring was a dangerous object that should be annihilated with extreme prejudice. At the same time, Spacing Guild's premiums dropped phenomenally low, allowing even the poorest of houses to transport large yields of products effortlessly. They were preparing for a mass transit.  
  
While the Emperor pondered this piece of advice, CHOAM agents began whispering in his ear. Why destroy such a device without an investigation? There might be valuable resources present on it. The Bene Gesserit have many a time meddled in affairs outwith their jurisdiction. Why let them rule this time? Secretly, the Emperor agreed. But he knew more about the more sinister side to the B. G. School than the public was allowed to hear. He knew that if he did not act upon their demands, most unfortunate incidents would occur. However... CHOAM did have a point. What to do?  
  
Then the Emperor knew exactly how to appease both sides.  
  
He would commission the use of the largest Heighliner available from the Spacing Guild, ship several legions of house conscripts and some of the prized Sardaukar, maybe at the least ten legions altogether, and ship several atomics at the same time. He would publicly announce that the troops were there to plant explosives deep in the ring, and cause it to break and shatter.  
  
In secret he announced to CHOAM that such orders would be delayed for a long time. A very long time. Of course, now that the Spacing Guild premiums had dropped so low to allow the shipment of so many military personnel, it would be quite alright for several of their agents to accompany them to the planet. Just to oversee the operation, he added slyly.  
  
CHOAM knew exactly what the Emperor meant.  
  
And so, three months after its appearance, finally a ship circled it at high orbit. The largest Heighliner ever made. Large enough to ship all the military units requested. Of course, the Houses all complied without a voice of demur. This way they could ship their own agents without paying additional fees. Even the houses without Mentats could see that.  
  
Temporary Barracks 0025, Deck Five, Intersection Twelve, Time: 0400 hours by Old Earth time.  
  
Trooper Byrnes looked up from his bunk, feeling the dull rumble of the ships engines under his feet. Damn Navigators... he thought. Why couldn't they direct these machines more quietly? He swung his feet round, and sat up, feeling a brief bout of nausea. There were a few more conscripts around him who were suffering the same feelings of space sickness.  
  
He reached for a nearby water container, and had a brief drink from it. He saw one trooper, one with blue-on-blue eyes glare at him. Ah, he thought. An Arrakis native... observe the Eyes of Ibad. He pondered over his presence. Then again, anything would be better then that desert hell- world, except... Salusa Secendus...  
  
Before this train of thought could be continued, there was a sudden klaxon blare, and the harsh lights of the cabins activated, flooding the barracks with a grimy and unsettling glare. The cabin door opened, and the sergeant walked in.  
  
"Well, men, what are we waiting for? Breakfast in bed? It's another beautiful day in the conscripts. Everybody get prepped and ready. Breakfast starts in twenty minutes. I want everybody down there to fill your bellies. This is the proverbial it. This is the day we finally leave this place, and feel real gravity under your feet! So get some hustle on!"  
  
"About time sarge!" A orange-haired man called out from one of the bunks. "We were getting sick of this bloody place. And be sure to tell the Navigator that his driving was terrible!"  
  
The sergeant smirked. "I'll be sure to pass your comments on, Private. Now get a move on!" He turned, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.  
  
"Finally!" "Great, I was tired of this feeling in my stomach all day..." Voices broke out around him, all gibberish, but all conveying relief. Even the Arrakis natives were expressing relief in their religious and pious manner.  
  
Byrnes slipped on a tight vest and rubbed his eyes lazily. Another wonderful day in the life of... he thought slothfully.  
  
Navigator Quarters, Time: 0800 hours by Old Earth time.  
  
"When precisely will we be allowed to ferry our troops down to the surface?"  
  
Guildsman Herbert turned to face the soldier, and smiled condescendingly. "Captain Idaho, you must surely be aware that although your men may be slightly..." he trailed off, searching for the correct term, "ill at ease staying on this ship, you must remember that the flight control of one frigate is hard enough to manage on its own. Three at once..." He shrugged.  
  
Captain Idaho paced the deck angrily. "May I remind you that we have direct orders from the Emperor to land on this place as soon as possible?"  
  
"The Sublime Padishah Emperor may wish many things, but he does not have the knowledge of the complexity of the Navigators' work." The Guildsman tipped his head to one side and smiled at the Captain. "Do not concern yourself with our workings. We shall have these ships landing soon."  
  
"Do you have an estimate as to how long that will take?"  
  
Herbert shrugged slightly. "At least another two hours, Captain." He flicked his hand carelessly at the soldier. "You are dismissed."  
  
Captain Idaho glared at the Guildsman, then spun on one foot, leaving the room with an angry march.  
  
Guildsman Herbert sighed. "What a vulgar man..."  
  
"He would undoubtedly act that way towards anyone who patronises him." A voice called from a nearby chamber. "He is an Idaho. It is well known that Idahos are a proud and ancient family."  
  
"Still, he should know his place. He is just a soldier." The Guildsman turned towards the direction of the voice. "Are you sure it is wise in delaying the landing ships for so long?"  
  
"I will not have those damnable Combine Honnete Ober Advancer Mercantiles representatives dictating what the Spacing Guild can and cannot do." The voice retorted angrily. "We shall delay this landing as a little reminder as to who controls the movement of cargo around this universe. They may have a stranglehold on the economic market, but we control all shipping, and I wish to remind them of that, despite what the Emperor orders."  
  
"Still, we risk incurring his wrath if we delay too long." Herbert pointed out.  
  
"Do not worry, this little delay will not cause any severe problems for the shipment of troops. After all, this is just a simple demolition mission. What could happen if there is a slight delay?"  
  
Herbert smiled slyly. "I concur, sir."  
  
Mess hall 020, Deck Six, Intersection Seven, Time: 0830 hours by Old Earth time.  
  
Byrnes looked up from his food – although admittedly 'food' was being generous. So would the term 'gruel'. Most people would find water thicker – to find the orange-haired private laughing outrageously loud at some comment another conscript made. He stirred his food absent-mindedly. There was the bitter scent of rachag stimulant in the air. In short, the room was crowded, noisy and intrusive.  
  
The conscripts were having their breakfast after the morning reading from the O.C. Bible. The dish they were served was apparently some type of Pundi rice dish, but the troops weren't fooled. Not even the worst of cooks could pull of something quite as poor as this dish, even with Pundi rice.  
  
The tannoy system crackled briefly, and Captain Idaho's voice crackled over it.  
  
"Listen up, people. We've just heard from the Navigators when touch-down is going to start. I want the First and Second legions of the Conscripts at the dock, ready to board the frigates at 1000 hours. The rest of you are to go down slightly later on the smaller dropships. Don't worry, this is going to be an easy mission, people. We'll be back home soon enough. Captain Idaho out."  
  
The orange-haired soldier rolled his eyes. "Well, whoopty-fuckin'-doo. Another delay." Byrnes snorted in agreement, and ate a spoonful of his food, then regretted it.  
  
"Oh yeah, those lucky guys get to go down on highly-hostile soil without any back-up and without knowing what may or may not be on the surface." The sergeant added. "They have all the good breaks."  
  
"Actually..." another conscript added. "...I think it's because those guys ain't conscripts."  
  
"Well, what are they then?" The orange-haired man asked sardonically.  
  
"Well..." the soldier lowered his head, and whispered confidentially. "They do have the hint of S. S. around them..."  
  
Byrnes snorted in laughter, and the rest of the table laughed outrageously. "Oh yeah, right." Byrnes added, "the Emperor would send some of his most feared soldiers on a trip to basically demolish a space station." He rolled his eyes. "I can see that happening."  
  
"Say what you want." The soldier muttered, stirring the rice-meal in front of him. "That's what I think..."  
  
"Oh, this day is going to go flying past, I just know it..." The orange- haired man muttered.  
  
Upper Orbit around Halo 58, Time: 1015 hours by Old Earth time.  
  
The three frigate slowly flew out of the Heighliner's docking bay and moved ponderously towards the Halo's surface. Small trails of fiery-red etched their edges as they entered the atmosphere. Slowly... slowly they descended, seemingly getting smaller and smaller to those on the Heighliner, and then they landed, each one equidistant from the other.  
  
Guildsman Herbert nodded in self-satisfaction as he saw the craft land in perfect unison. The people they transported had no respect for stellar transport. They thought it to be all 'plot course and activate engines'. It was a seldom appreciated work of art which dictated the highest of skills. Of course, it could hardly be expected that such skills would come cheaply...  
  
He turned to the Navigator. "Sir, has word been sent from the surface declaring the condition of the landing craft?"  
  
There was a rasping sound, and the voice was heard again. "Word has been sent back to us. The frigates landed perfectly, and already troops are being arranged. Our agents are managing to get the military to do their jobs quickly."  
  
Herbert smiled. "Exactly what CHOAM wishes not to happen."  
  
"Exactly, Herbert." There was another rasping sound, then; "Inform the Mentats that their transport is ready. Ensure that the atomics are sent down with them. We want this job done as fast as possible, and damn the CHOAM's wishes."  
  
"Aye, sir." Herbert muttered. He transmitted this information to the tannoy, then turned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Sir, do you think we can trust the Bene Gesserit's word on the purpose of this ring?"  
  
"I would never trust any Bene Gesserit witch with anything." The voice snapped back. "However, it has been noted, by several Navigators with prescience, that the future timelines look bleak if this ring is used. It has been decided that we should follow the B. G.'s advice... up to a point."  
  
"Very good, sir." Herbert nodded. "Now, if you excuse me, I shall break my fast with the remainder of the command crew." He turned and left, leaving the remaining person alone. The person slowly consumed a Melange tablet. His blue-on-blue eyes peered out the viewscreen at the object in space.  
  
Heighliner 20, Time: 1030 hours by Old Earth time.  
  
"What do you mean we're not allowed to go?" The orange-haired man whined, adjusting his helmet.  
  
"You heard the Captain," the sergeant called out over the shouts of dismay from the conscripts, "we have to wait until the Mentats and the atomic charges have reached the surface before we can move in."  
  
"So why were we called to be all armed up, then?" another man yelled, his fair complexion stating he was a Caladanin native.  
  
The sergeant raised his eyes heavenwards. "I don't know, okay? Maybe they wanted us to get on the planet as soon as possible without any equipment delays."  
  
"Then why haven't we been sent now?" Said orange hair.  
  
"Look, just shut up all of you! Shut up now!" barked the sergeant. "Look, just be patient, and I'm sure we'll be down there as soon as possible." He paused, then looked at the orange-haired conscript. "For that little outburst, Private Pardee, you and the rest of this unit can check all of your equipment again."  
  
There was general cries of annoyance, and Byrnes shifted his rifle in front of him. He checked the firing chamber and barrel, removed and then re- inserted the magazine, checked the secondary magazine was correctly clipped onto the side holder... He glared at Pardee, who merely shrugged, and then grinned inanely, swinging the rifle over his shoulder, and drew out his side arm with a nonchalant ease.  
  
Time: 1035 by Old Earth time.  
  
"Navigator!" An aide yelled over the private intercom. "We have detected a massive energy spike emitted from the ring! What's going on?"  
  
The Navigator paused, breathing in the cinnamon-like scent of Melange as he saw the ring sending out pulses of white light, all of which converged in the centre of the ring.  
  
"Send a message to the landing parties. Inquire as to their status." The Navigator muttered back through the intercom. He peered back at the phenomena cautiously, seeing the light build up in volume, becoming almost indescribably bright, then the light suddenly cut off, leaving a purple afterglow in the Navigator's eyes.  
  
There were four sleek, purple ships, almost beetle-like in shape flying out from the ring. A sudden crackle came over the tannoy system. A harsh voice barked out in crude-sounding English; "Your destruction is the will of the gods...and we are their instrument." The Navigator looked back at the ships, and saw, with a horrified clarity a large sphere of burning- white energy speed towards the ship. There was a horrible lurch, and a scream of tortured metal as the plasma burned through the outer hull. He turned back to look at the ships again, and noticed another sphere heading towards his ship. This time, it was headed directly towards the bridge.  
  
Deck Six, Intersection Nine, Time: 1036 hours by Old Earth time.  
  
The ship lurched to the left, sending Byrnes and several other conscripts to the deck floor. Pardee looked up in anxiety. Klaxons started to wail unexpectedly. The sergeant marched up to the intercom system and tried to find out what was going on from the Navigator. Static was the only response.  
  
Covenant Cruiser 'God's Own Wrath'.  
  
Ship Master T'lasarnum looked at the ship displayed in the tactical readout in front of him. When his picket fleet had transported through the Halo and come across a ship almost as long as a planet's diameter, they were understandably cautious. However, preliminary scans showed no discernable weapons systems. A few plasma spheres fired from the fleet backed up this evidence. They had managed to destroy the main command post, and the ship hadn't even moved.  
  
"Ship Master?" one of the bridge crew asked. "What shall we do now?"  
  
T'lasarnum looked up from the readout, and thought briefly. "Arrange boarding parties." He snapped. "Attempt to capture the ship. We don't want to waste plasma torpedoes." He stood up and paced the deck slightly. This was going to be too easy...  
  
Heighliner 20.  
  
There was a dull 'crunch', and the ship lurched again.  
  
"What was that?" Pardee cried. "Did something just hit us?"  
  
"Check your weapons, men!" The sergeant yelled, drawing his side-arm.  
  
There was commotion up ahead. Some soldiers were waving at Byrnes' group... then there was a flash of blue, and a brief wave of heat flowed above them. A gaping hole, it's edges ringed white with heat, was now in the hull. Suddenly a small, squat creature scurried out from the hole, and looked at the squad in front of him. There was a brief pause as both species looked at each other in some bizarre stand-off. The small creature suddenly shrieked and held up a small device which spat green spheres at the conscripts. One soldier was struck in the face, and he fell howling, blinded in one eye.  
  
The sergeant raised his pistol and fired, sending a slug straight into the creature's head, killing it instantly. There were some more scuffling sounds from the hole, and suddenly, many creatures emerged, firing at the squad. Three men fell, burned to death before the conscripts could react.  
  
Pardee yelled incoherently and raised his rifle at the creatures, sending a hail of metal towards them. Byrnes accompanied him, his gun leaping wildly in his hands. Then the rest of the squad joined in.  
  
Tracer rounds etched the eyes with after-images. Smaller, unseen rounds smashed into the smaller aliens. Some dropped dead, the other fled, screaming in their high-pitched voices. The larger aliens bellowed in deeper voices, and followed the other creatures, sending bolts of blue fire at the squad.  
  
The group remained at the junction, some still not having moved from when the aliens first arrived. Pardee cleared his throat. "Well, I think I speak for everyone, sarge, when I yell: WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?"  
  
The sergeant shook his head unsteadily. "Boys, I think we may be in a slight more trouble than what I first thought..."  
  
Please R&R. I shall write up another chapter when I can. 


	2. First Impressions

Another chapter and another disclaimer. I don't own anything. Not even the original idea of the Halo crossover. All plaudits for that idea go to Bombsquad. This story, however, is my idea, but please note that this may or may not have any correlation with Bombsquad's series. It's up to him to decide that.  
  
Warning: It's going to get slightly messy...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Captain Idaho ran up to the secondary command, stumbling slightly with every sudden shudder of the ship. There was a loud crash, followed by another, than another. Always getting louder, getting louder, getting closer!  
  
There was a brief flash of blue and a wall ahead of him erupted into flame. His hand flew to his shield-belt, activating it. He felt the slight tingling sensation over his body and his surroundings grew slightly muted and blurred, a disadvantage, but one he would need to accept for now.  
  
Blue fire erupted around him, but his shield repelled it easily. 'The shield turns the fast blow', he thought thankfully, 'admits the slow kindjal.' Another flurry of fire went past him harmlessly. He drew his sabre and leapt through the breach.  
  
A large creature stood over him, bellowing in an unknown tongue. It flung its weapon down at his head, but far too quickly. It pressed against the shield, then was flung away by the Holtzman generator. The creature looked faintly bemused, and paused. Idaho dodged behind the creature, and stabbed slowly at its exposed back. A blue-green shell erupted around it, and it yelled in presumable anger. It turned again, but Idaho moved with it.  
  
A sudden flash, the blue shielding was gone from the creature. It bellowed angrily, until Idaho's sabre neatly decapitated it. Blood spurted from the stump with the pressure, and the body collapsed. Idaho looked at the corridor. The shield he was wearing made the outside world hazy and indistinct... his hand flew to the shield-belt again, deactivating it.  
  
Around him was chaos. Gunfire, erratic and spontaneous came from all around him, screams, both human and alien sounded throughout the ship. He held his weapon at the ready, and ran down the corridor, one hand at his shield, looking for a means to communicate with the remainder of the troops.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Byrnes yelled in sudden fear as a wave of heat passed over his head. Pardee shoved him down to the ground, firing his weapon simultaneously. Shell casings fell to the deck like a smoking, copper rain. A creature ahead cried, and fell over, quite dead.  
  
"Look sharp, mate." Pardee said, pulling Byrnes to his feet. "I can't look out for you all the time." Byrnes nodded, terror robbing him of speech.  
  
"Men!" The sergeant yelled over the sound of battle. "We are going to move to the main mess hall! There we shall be able to erect a suitable defence and keep these creatures off of us!" Another explosion caused the entire ship to lurch, and all the conscripts stumbled.  
  
"Yeah, we'll be able to keep these creatures off of us..." Pardee muttered, reloading his rifle. "...Right up until the point they destroy the entire ship..."  
  
"What do you mean?" Byrnes asked. "They can't destroy a Heighliner, that's just not possible."  
  
Pardee shrugged. "Less than an hour ago I thought monsters didn't exist. Now..." he trailed off, and started to follow the sergeant. Byrnes stared at the corridor apprehensively, and winced when another explosion wracked the vessel.  
  
As the conscripts passed the alien's dead body, Pardee picked up the device it was using. He held it up to his face, wrapping his fingers around the trigger-guard.  
  
"Pardee, get your damnfool hands off of that device before you kill us all." The sergeant yelled at him. Pardee shrugged and made as if to throw the device away. Byrnes saw, just as the device was at his Pardee's fingertips, it slide beneath his shirt's wrist guard. Pardee caught his eye, then winked. There was another explosion, and the ship shook violently.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Idaho leapt up the stairway. There was a brief spate of gunfire, and bullets embedded into the wall above his head. He ducked and rolled, shouting out who he was. He peered back at the place where the gunfire came from. A conscript looked back at him, then shrugged apologetically.  
  
"Soldier!" Idaho yelled, walking briskly towards him, "what is going on here? I find myself trying to get to the command centre, which is normal, but I have to fight off reptilian monsters, which is not."  
  
"Unclear, Captain!" The man yelled, holding his rifle in the upright position. "We appear to have unauthorized personnel on the Heighliner, attempting to capture or destroy it!"  
  
"What is the Navigator doing?" Idaho barked, looking at the few working terminals in the secondary command.  
  
"Unclear, Captain! One of the first places the alien weapons hit was the Navigator's helm. It is suspected that he has been killed."  
  
Idaho chewed his lower lip as he looked through the ship's inventory using one of the terminals. He looked at a cross section of the ship, marking down where the aliens were and where the rest of his men were.  
  
"Give me operation of the tannoy!" He yelled at one of the remaining guildsmen. "I have an announcement to make to the remainder of the people onboard."  
  
&&&&&&  
  
The tannoy crackled over Byrnes head, causing him to nearly die of fright, again. "This is Captain Idaho!" It barked. "To all remaining personnel on board this Heighliner, make your way to the lower launching bays, and board the crushers for which will be set for planetary landing. I repeat, abandon the ship using the crushers found in the lower launching bays!"  
  
Pardee laughed inanely, firing at the creatures with his rifle. "What, leave before the party's even begun? Where's the fun in that?"  
  
"Stow that shit, Pardee!" The sergeant yelled. He then turned to the rest of the troops. "Alright, ladies, you heard the man! Change of plans! We're to head to the lower launching bays! If we are separated, that is where we are to head. Do you get me?"  
  
"Sir, yes sir!" The soldiers yelled, though not in chorus. A burst of plasma cut down one conscript, burning the top of his head off. No blood emitted from the wound as it was immediately cauterised. Pardee yelled in anger, and drew out the alien device, firing it back at the vile creatures. Byrnes accompanied him with his rifle.  
  
The rifle pushed into his shoulder with each bullet fired off. He felt casings bounce off of his foot and hit the floor with merry jingling sounds. Waves of heat passed his face as Pardee fired his new weapon at the enemy, his face grinning as one in a bloodlust.  
  
The firing pin clicked against an empty space. Byrnes reached for an extra clip, but his fingers brushed through only air. "I'm out!" He yelled, dropping his gun to the floor, and drawing his side-arm. "We need to retreat!"  
  
"Oh, come on..." Pardee muttered, licking his lips. "Let's stay a little longer..."  
  
Byrnes pulled him away from the door, narrowly avoiding a flurry of plasma. "Forget them! We need to leave, right now!" Pardee shrugged apologetically, then pulled a grenade from his chest armour. "We'll need to give them a little going-away present, though..." he pulled the pin, then threw the awkward cylinder down the hall. A sudden crack announced its detonation, and Byrnes heard the cries of the wounded aliens down the corridor. 'The gift is the blessing of the giver', he quoted in his mind, then realised the irony.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
At the lower launching bay, complete pandemonium was breaking out. People were running for their lives, cowering in static crushers, while the Covenant fired upon the drop-ships. Some managed to launch themselves from the ship, flying to the Halo nearby. Most of them exploded at the plasma fire burned through their hulls.  
  
A squad of grunts were at the south entrance, their guns firing off in an unholy chorus, their fiery payloads burning flesh and conflagrating armour. The leader threw a plasma grenade at the infidels and watched with unsurpassed glee as it stuck to one of the heretic's legs. He ran around, screaming for a few seconds, then it exploded, blasting him apart, his entrails vaporising before they reached a wall.  
  
The grunts began firing at the exposed humans again, their fire reaping them easily. Tulkanussan yelled in victory as another human soldier toppled from a gantry onto the hard metal floor many stories below. The Gods would be grateful today!  
  
A brief thud distracted him, and he peered down at the deck to his right. A large cylinder, hissing faintly, was rolling about. He stared at it, then realised what it was. He screamed a warning, leaping over the hastily constructed barricade. An explosion pressed him mercilessly into the ground, then the deck flung away from, him, then flew back, hitting his face violently.  
  
He rolled over, faintly stunned and watched as more humans rushed in from behind his position. Their boots rattled past him. They thought him to be dead! Well, he wasn't yet, God willing. He reached for another grenade, then felt a shadow fall over him.  
  
Another human was there, but unlike the other humans, he had no armour and no gun, only a sword. A faint shimmer surrounded his body, making him seem as if he was almost a mirage. Tulkanussan saw him point the sword at his head.  
  
Idaho stabbed the creature in the head, ending its life suddenly. He looked up at the bay ahead of him, and sighed. "Men!" He screamed over the gunfire. "Position yourselves around alien blockades! Provide covering fire! Allow the ship personnel to board first, then we move out!" Some soldiers heard him, but most missed his words, and were still panicking. Idaho sighed, then ran over to the nearest skirmish, holding his sabre out behind him. It was going to be a long and hard-fought fight...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Pardee flung a grenade down the corridor, and waited for it to explode. When the noise died down, he strolled in, pointing his pistol almost casually in front of him. Movement in the dust caught his eye, and his gun tracked it. A few gunshots, and the movement ceased.  
  
"Pardee!" Byrnes yelled. "We should check the corridors before we move in, okay!"  
  
"It's more fun this way!" Pardee retorted, picking up one of the creature's weapons. He flicked the top of it open, inspecting the mechanism, then shut it again. A dull roar echoed through the ship.  
  
"The crushers are launching!" Byrnes yelled. "We have to leave now!" He rushed to the door which opened to the launching bay.  
  
And came face-to-face with one of the big aliens.  
  
It yelled something incomprehensible, then flung its rifle down on his head. He felt the blow crack the helmet, and felt blood vessels in his nose burst with the impact. His foot lashed out instinctively, catching the creature on the knee. It bellowed in more of anger then pain, a blue halo engulfing its body. It pointed the weapon down at Byrnes' moaning body. He heard a slight whine through his groans, but his streaming nose had caused his eyes to shut instinctively. He rolled over, trying to avoid the shot.  
  
Pardee shoulder barged the creature, knocking it off balance. It hit the deck, then rolled, bringing its gun to bear. Blue fire spat from its barrel, causing Pardee to dive behind some cover. The plasma gave off the smell of burning ozone when it erupted against the metal walls of the corridor, but both soldiers avoided being hit.  
  
The creature bellowed in annoyance at the hiding humans. They had no idea how to fight honourably! No wonder their Gods decreed them to die. He walked over to where the orange-haired one, the devious one, was hiding.  
  
A blow from behind forced the Elite to his knees. The sanctified shielding repelled the blow, but he was still forced to move with it. It was from the creature it had hit before, when it had tried to ambush him...  
  
This train of thought, however, was ended when the orange-haired soldier pulled a pin from a grenade, stuffed it into the Elite's gaping jaws, then slid past it through its legs. The resulting explosion coated the walls with dripping matter best left to be undescribed. Pardee picked Byrnes up from his prone position.  
  
"C'mon!" He yelled. "The last crushers are leaving!" He ran through the door, closely pursued by Byrnes. Plasma fire erupted around him as he ran for the closest landing ship. A bolt hit his leg, burning it severely. He dropped to the floor with a yell, twisting so his weapon was pointing towards the alien soldiers. Byrnes grabbed him by his lapels, dragging him across the ground as he fired and screamed incoherently at the aliens. Another man ran past them, holding a sword. He paused by the crusher's door, waiting for the two conscripts to enter.  
  
Byrnes fell in, Pardee collapsing on top of him. Captain Idaho picked them up, practically throwing them towards the seats. He hit the switch for the door, and the portal grinded shut. Plasma fire still battered the crusher relentlessly. Idaho screamed at the pilot to leave.  
  
The crusher's engines activated, causing it to fly out of the ship and head towards the Halo. Explosions from the Heighliner rocked the dropship, but thankfully it was not damaged.  
  
"Captain Idaho!" The pilot yelled, his blue-on-blue eyes frantic. "Where are we going to land?"  
  
"Just land as close as you can to the nearest frigate!" Idaho yelled back. "We'll get there on foot if necessary!" Another explosion rattled the crusher, but it's course was still true.  
  
"Sir!" A soldier yelled from his seat. "What about the Heighliner? Are we going to leave it there for those things?"  
  
Idaho smirked. "Don't worry, soldier. There's a little welcoming surprise for them..."  
  
A large blast threw Idaho to the deck, causing him to burst his lip upon the metal grille. He turned back towards the pilot. "Is there anyway we can see what's going on at the Heighliner's position?"  
  
The pilot moved his hand over a few controls, and a solido tri-D projection appeared in the middle of the vessel. The display showed the Heighliner in its damaged form. Explosions wracked its exterior, and more alien vessels impacted against its surface. There was a bright flash which illuminated the entire vessel, and the Heigliner appeared on the screen again.  
  
This time, the vessel was breaking apart. Large explosions started to stitch the surface, going up the vessel in an unstoppable manner. Another bright flash etched their eyes, then another, then another...  
  
The Heighliner was slowly being destroyed.  
  
The pilot stared at the projection wordlessly. "What happened?" He gasped in horror.  
  
Idaho shrugged. "I left a timed lasgun and a hot shield running as close to the main reactor as possible. When the lasgun shot at the shield..."  
  
"Subatomic fusion." A soldier called out from his seat.  
  
"The resulting blast breached the core, which in turn, started to travel through the entire ship, demolishing it in a few minutes." Idaho looked at the burning hulk on display. "I'd like to see those monsters salvage anything from that now..."  
  
"Do you have any idea how much that is going to cost?" The pilot whispered, his voice strangled in complete despair.  
  
Idaho shrugged again. "The Spacing Guild can, quite frankly, bill me. I'm not concerned with the cost right now. I'm more concerned about our lives, if you don't mind."  
  
The crusher began to shake, and the pilot looked back at the monitors around him. "We've entered the ring's atmosphere!" He yelled. "We'll be landing roughly five clicks from the nearest frigate! Landing in T-Minus fifteen seconds!"  
  
"Alright men!" Idaho yelled, sitting down at a chair and pulling the motion dampener down. "We're going to be landing soon. Be sure to check you are prepared for the landing, remember, breath with your mouth open, not through your nose!" The ship trembled some more. "Get ready!"  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Please review. 


	3. Strategies within strategies within stra...

Surprise, surprise. Another chapter in this fanfic based on Bombsquad's original idea. Remember, I don't own nothing. Nothing there is that I own. Owning things is something I do not do. Get the picture?  
  
I'm writing this as a little sabbatical from my other works, as they seem to have attracted no attraction lately.  
  
So, please, if you have enjoyed this fic, send a review. If you dislike the fic, please review, and I shall attempt to alter the fic in order to satisfy your demands. If you're too lazy to review, then bugger off. No, not really. Just read the story please.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Idaho crouched down on the rock he was on, and looked into the distance. Approximately five kilometres away was one of the three frigates that had landed on this ringworld. A gust of wind blew his hair over his balding spot. He shifted it back distractedly, looking up. The sight was disconcerting to say the least. It is hard to imagine you are on the ground when you can see land above you.  
  
A rustling sound distracted his thoughts. He turned to see one of the soldiers run up to him. The soldier wiped sweat off of his face, then stood to attention. "Captain Idaho, sir! We have successfully made contact with the nearest frigate. They shall be sending a carryall in three standard minutes."  
  
Idaho nodded, then leapt off from the boulder, landing heavily on his feet. He brushed his uniform and straightened his cap. He marched over to the soldiers from the crusher.  
  
Brief snatches of conversation reached his ears. "Hey! Feel that under your dogs? That ain't gravity, man!" "God, I feel as if I've broken at least five of my ribs with that landing..." "Yeah, blame the pilot for that, I ain't responsible." "Can it! It's the Captain!"  
  
The soldiers stood more or less to attention. Idaho strode in front of them, inspecting their stance and appearance. Most of them were commoners... but they would have to do. After all, it was not expected for anything like this to occur. He stopped and faced them.  
  
"Men, good news. Thanks to our radio operative, we have managed to let that frigate know that we are here, and they are going to send us some air support to pick us up. So, no need for an early morning constitutional." He smiled thinly at hearing the slightly forced and exhausted laughs.  
  
"However, do not be lead to believe that your immediate life is going to be as pampered as this. We are going to need your skills soon, so get as much rest as you can. You'll need it." He nodded, biting his lower lip. "At ease."  
  
"Sir?" One soldier raised his hand slowly, the grime on his face giving him a shadowy appearance. "Will there be any medical facilities? It's just that some of us have sustained injuries."  
  
"Don't worry, soldier. There are going to be several doctors of the Suk School there, and I'm sure they're just dying to practise their skills." Idaho's lips drew over his teeth in a parody of a reassuring smile. "You'll be fine."  
  
He turned away from the soldiers, pacing the slope the group was on. He noticed the crusher's pilot sitting on the edge, his legs kicking out into space lazily. The pilot turned, his peculiar eyes staring into Idaho's face.  
  
"Did you hear, pilot?" Idaho asked. The pilot nodded in answer, then turned back to stare at the lack of horizon. Both men waited in silence, the faint binary suns bathing them in a weak light. Up ahead, they saw strange structures and alien vessels. Idaho sniffed uncomfortably. This was an unknown area. No-one had anticipated something like this.  
  
"That damnable Navigator..." The pilot muttered. Idaho started from his thoughts. "I beg your pardon?" he asked.  
  
The pilot looked down over the edge of the precipice. "If only he had looked over his own private dislike of the CHOAM, then we may have gotten this job done on time." He looked back up at the Covenant dropships moving ponderously along the mountain ridges. "Now, we're in this situation."  
  
Idaho shrugged. "We are all humans. We all have our little areas of pettiness. Even someone as infallible as a Navigator must have them." He looked back at the pilot. "Do you know why we were given this assignment anyway? I presume it is due to those..." he indicated the alien aircraft idly. "...things, is it not so?"  
  
"We were given some information from the Bene Gesserit which suggested that this ring harboured within it some great danger. I must admit, I didn't believe that was so, until these monsters appeared."  
  
Idaho snorted angrily. "Damn, Bene Gesserit witches..." he turned back with a thoughtful look. "Within the ring, did they say?"  
  
The pilot nodded.  
  
"Strange... these creatures came from the ring, but not from within it." Idaho pursed his lips. "They must have made a mistake. I wouldn't put it past those damnable women."  
  
"Damnable they may be," the pilot pointed out, "but they have been invaluable for the development of the entire Empire. Without them, we would have descended into anarchy."  
  
"Yes, but that does not give them the right to act so superior towards the rest of the Emperor's subjects." Idaho replied. A hissing sound on the edge of his hearing made him look up into the skies. A large craft was clumsily flying towards their position.  
  
"Soldiers!" Idaho yelled, turning back to the resting conscripts. "Look sharp! Evac coming in! Somebody, let off a jetflare!"  
  
There was a general rush of movement, with soldiers picking up equipment and waving at the craft. One of the troopers picked up a jetflare and pulled the pin. The magnesium fuel ignited with a blinding flash of light. The carryall wiggled its wings, indicating it had seen the group. It descended towards their position, its massive turbines slowing as it began to decelerate.  
  
"Everybody, get yourself ready! I expect us to leave in two minutes, max!" Idaho yelled. He turned and pulled the Guildsman up to his feet. "Come on, man. We're getting out of this place!" They both ran towards the hovering craft, and joined the rest of the troopers in the holding bay. The door shut behind them, and a sudden pulling sensation indicated that they were moving away from the crash site.  
  
Idaho sighed in relief, and rested his head against the cold, hard metal of the bulkhead. He closed his eyes, listening to the dull hum and hiss of the engines. Slowly, slowly, by irresistible degrees, he fell asleep.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Mentat Toure Bomoko sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he inspected the flow of data coming in from a portable terminal. Even he felt tired from the recent ordeal. It had all started when the contents of the frigate were being unloaded, with soldiers positioning themselves at certain defensive points.  
  
A sudden surge in local energy stations caused several sensors to explode, unable to measure the astronomical amount of power being used. White light, brighter then that of a jetflare, had formed at the centre of the ring. A flash which outshone the binary stars enveloped their position. When they could look back, four new ships, clearly not any form of Spacing Guild ship had appeared. A brief transmission from the Heighliner was suddenly cut off as the new ships engaged their previous transport.  
  
Bomoko was astounded. Ship-to-ship weaponry! No-one had thought of applying any technology that way, but then again, all ships were under the jurisdiction of the Guild. That is, up until now.  
  
Even from the surface, the Mentats could see the silent battle being fought out in outer orbit. An hour passed, and then the first of the crushers fell from the ship. More followed. A steady rain of ships fell from space for ten minutes. Then, to Bomoko's utter surprise, the Heighliner was destroyed.  
  
Bomoko and the other Mentats could see immediately that it was an internal, and hence self-inflicted, detonation which caused the main reactor breach, but still... the mere thought of destroying a Heighliner shook the very foundation's of Bomoko's mind, until it threatened to overthrow his Mentat training.  
  
Radio transmissions from nearby crushers came in soon after that. Carryalls which had survived the landing were sent to far-off crushers. Nearer crash-site victims had to either walk or wait for ground transport. Reinforcements were amassing at all three of the landed frigates.  
  
Of course, the refugees were not the most important problem, far from it. The aliens who had attacked them were foremost in every Mentat's mind. Early reports were garbled, and were of little help, but minor skirmishes against picket forces found on the ringworld brought back enough information to reach valid conclusions about the creatures. To the Bomoko's horror, the alien craft had positioned themselves, and were landing their own troops and vehicles to use against them.  
  
Then, of course, was the fact that they now had no way of getting of off this vile place. Even if they did have access to a transport, how could they outrun the alien vessels?  
  
Finally, there was the ring itself. The Mentats had tried to interrogate the Guildsmen about their mission, but it seemed only the Navigator had true knowledge about their mission, and now he was dead, which was a minor setback.  
  
Still, all was not bad news. A recent radio report had indicated that Captain Idaho, commander of the conscripts, had survived the assault on the Heighliner, and he was now on his way to the frigate Bomoko was on. At least there was someone who could control the rabble of the soldiers while the Mentats calculated what to do next.  
  
Nearby pacing distracted Bomoko from his thoughts, and he saw Guildsman Herbert walking across the deck again. Ever since he had been transported to the frigate he had seemed uneasy. A sharp, pungent smell of a match striking assaulted his nose. The temporary spokesman for the conscripts, a Colonel Bashar Halloway, was lighting a small cigarillo. He breathed in the fumes, then blew the smoke out of his cavernous nostrils like some type of elderly dragon. Bomoko wrinkled his face in mild disgust.  
  
The sound of the portal to the frigate's bridge caught his attention. From the corridor walked a short man in a resplendent uniform. Blonde, thin hair danced across his thin, narrow-set face. His rodent-like eyes moved from one man to the next to the next. Captain Idaho had arrived.  
  
Bomoko stood up, holding his hand out to the man. "Greetings. I am Bomoko. I presume you are Captain Idaho?"  
  
The man nodded curtly, his eyes focusing briefly on Bomoko's carmine lips. "I presume you are a Mentat, then?" He asked.  
  
Bomoko inclined his head slightly. "Indeed. May I introduce you to the remainder of our conclave, Colonel Bashar Halloway and Guildsman Herbert."  
  
Idaho nodded. "I have heard of Halloway, and your reputation is matched by the proficiency of your men." Halloway nodded, accepting the compliment.  
  
Idaho turned, facing Herbert with a sneer. "So, next time you receive direct orders from the Emperor, will your type be so willing as to be so slow in responding?" He asked. Herbert glared at him in response.  
  
Idaho turned back towards Bomoko. "What is the status of our position on this ringworld?"  
  
Bomoko sighed, and turned back to the portable terminal. He quickly scrolled through the data, checking his original calculations. "Well, Captain. If our data here is correct, we have approximately forty-five percent of our personnel present from the Heighliner on this ringworld." He looked up at Idaho, his eyes serious. "These forces have mostly congregated at the three frigates, but there still are some forces which are taking positions outwith the frigates. We have a full two wings of military ornithopters, one half wing of transport ornithopters and one wing of carryalls."  
  
Idaho nodded. "What about the condition of our ground transport? How many tanks and such do we possess?"  
  
Bomoko shrugged. "Inventory reports are still coming in, but we appear to have almost two, maybe three, hundred combat tanks and fifty siege tanks. We have full brigades of both trikes and quads. But otherwise, we have no other vehicle support."  
  
"What about enemy units? Do we have any intelligence on them?"  
  
"None whatsoever bar their name; the Covenant. All we do know is that their troops and vehicles have weaponry superior to ours." Bomoko grimaced. "Things are looking grim."  
  
Idaho turned to Herbert. "How long will it be before the Spacing Guild sends another ship to investigate our sudden radio silence?"  
  
Herbert looked up, sweat beading on his forehead. He chewed his lip, and his blue-on-blue eyes flitted slightly. "Ten days, Captain."  
  
"Ten days?" Halloway exclaimed. "I don't know if you noticed, but we're not going to survive ten fucking hours on this place! You saw how quickly they decimated our forces on the Heighliner!" He looked at Idaho. "Captain, tell him!"  
  
"Look," Herbert said in a calm voice that fooled no-one. "The Heighliner is designed for space transport, not for military sorties. I'm sure that if we dig ourselves in, we can easily survive that long..." Herbert looked at Bomoko hopefully.  
  
Bomoko shook his head. "Giving what limited data I have, I doubt we'd last half as long a time."  
  
Herbert whimpered slightly. Halloway groaned, throwing his cigarillo away in disgust. Idaho just shut his eyes.  
  
"Besides," Bomoko continued, "even if we did survive that long, what is to stop the aliens from shooting the ship down before it began landing any dropships to pick us up?"  
  
"I'm sure that another shielded Heighliner could survive such an assault." Herbert added. He then glared at Idaho. "Especially without any of the crew causing the main reactor to go critical."  
  
Bomoko shook his head. "Those ships could still follow the Heighliner to other places, and call in reinforcements. If such a thing happened, it would be disasterous."  
  
Halloway looked thoughtful. "Why haven't the Covenant called in reinforcements already?"  
  
"It seems to me that the Covenant will not use many soldiers if they believe that they can beat the enemy with what they have." Bomoko looked up, and a rare smile graced his face, the crimson teeth glinting slightly in the glowglobes' light. "This could be a weakness we could exploit."  
  
"What of the Covenant vessels? Where are they now?" Idaho asked.  
  
"They are currently a few metres off of the ringworlds' surface." A solido tri-D projection activated, showing the ring. "They have 'landed' at the positions indicated." Bomoko stated, pointing to several purple markers. "They are deploying troops using landing craft and a form of elevator, which we Mentats have termed a 'gravity lift'. Small skirmish forces have been sent to inspect the areas around these craft."  
  
Idaho nodded, his eyes still closed. "What about this ringworld? Do we have any information about it?"  
  
Bomoko stared at Idaho steadily. "We have..." he started slowly, "made small investigations into the workings of this place. We have so far managed to get some information as to where certain main terminals are in this place, to whit, a map room, a control centre, and a munitions camp."  
  
"Munitions?" Halloway asked, raising his eyebrow.  
  
Bomoko pulled an apologetic face. "We're not too sure where that is exactly. We're not sure if it is even a munitions camp. It translates roughly as 'weapons holding pens'. However, we have pin-pointed the other two locations." Two new markers, both blue, appeared on the hologram. "One is at an arctic location, while another is present on a small island in the sea twenty rotations up from this position." Bomoko looked up at the three men. "A strike force has been sent to secure the map-room, but the control centre has been already approached by Covenant forces."  
  
Idaho put a finger to his lips. "What does the control room allow the user to do?"  
  
Bomoko shrugged. "We're not sure, but I should imagine that it would control all mechanics on this ringworld."  
  
"Could we transfer control from that position to another position?" Idaho asked.  
  
Bomoko nodded. "Presumably..."  
  
"So, how well can we defend the map-room?"  
  
"Very well. Already our troops have discovered several structures which allow the lock-down of the map-room..." Bomoko trailed off, then nodded faintly. "I see where you are going with this, Captain. You think it possible to transfer full ringworld control to the map-room. Most cunning. Yes, that is feasible."  
  
"How long would it take?" Halloway asked.  
  
"I don't know, I've only had limited exposure to the workings of this place, but I should imagine only a few minutes..."  
  
"Wait," Herbert interrupted, "let us say we manage to do these tasks you have just brought up. What good will that do us? We will still be outgunned and wiped out, it'll just take more time to do so."  
  
Bomoko smirked. "What you have not taken into account, my dear Guildsman, is that with the control room in our grasp, we can continue with the original mission."  
  
"What, destroying the ring? How can you think of that right now?"  
  
"It gives us a bargaining chip." Halloway muttered. "If we are reduced to a stand-off, we can detonate the atomics, and take the Covenant with us."  
  
"Do we have enough atomics?"  
  
"More than enough." Bomoko reassured.  
  
Idaho started to pace the frigate's deck. He turned and faced the other three men. "Well, it seems as if we have gotten ourselves in a pretty pickle. However, I believe it is possible for us to win through." He turned to face Bomoko. "How soon can a strike force be arranged to take control of the control room?"  
  
"Twenty minutes, I estimate."  
  
"I want it done in fifteen. Get yourself or one of your lackeys ready for a trip. Dress warm. Be sure to send extra reinforcements to the map-room, and ensure that these frigates do not get destroyed. Those are my orders." Idaho looked at Herbert. "Unless of course, you have something to add...?"  
  
"None, Captain."  
  
"Good. Now, let's get going!"  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Finally! Another chapter done! In under twelve hours! Please R&R, tell me what you think. 


	4. Striking, I defend

Disclaimer: To quote Manuel; 'I know nothing...'. I also own nothing. Please R&R.  
  
It may get a tad violent near the end...  
  
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Idaho cowered briefly at the biting winds that buffeted the Carryall he was in. He adjusted his jacket against the sudden cold, and cursed whoever thought of putting a control centre in an arctic land. He looked up at the sullen characters sitting around him. Although they were under his command, they gave off no hint of subordination when they were around him. They were the fabled and feared Sardaukar, the fanatic-troops of the Emperor's personal army.  
  
Their cold and calculating eyes scoured their positions flawlessly, their weapons and armour were utilised perfectly. Each one of them carried a Holtzman shield generator on their belts. Tales of their exploits oft reached legendary proportions, and Idaho had to remind himself that they were still human.  
  
The Carryall's wings flapped noisily, causing Idaho's stomach to lurch. He steadied himself, then looked out the back to the other Carryalls flying into position. He was heading a covert strike into enemy territory. While a major force distracted the Covenant, drawing their troops from the command centre, they would sneak in and transfer control from the centre to the map room, which the remainder of the conscripts secured in his absence.  
  
The ship jerked forward slightly as the turbine engines took over from the 'glide-flying', an indication they had reached their destination. Idaho gripped the handrail and grabbed at his rapier. The Carryall slowed, then stopped, as did the other transports. Idaho could hear over the roar of the turbines that the pilot was asking for orders form Bomoko. He leaned out the door, peering out to see what was in front of the ship.  
  
There was an extremely large cliff-face, only a few metres ahead of them. Idaho groaned and walked over to the door separating the soldiers form the pilots. He knocked once, then opened it. He heard the pilot's request for a definition of the orders.  
  
The radio crackled, and Bomoko's voice came out. "You are to proceed three cycles upspin from here at the same altitude. Do not attempt to go over any obstacle, you will be detected."  
  
"With all due respect, sir, that's impossible. We cannot travel any further without gaining altitude!" The pilot snorted. "Unless, of course you want us to fly straight through this cliff."  
  
"Precisely." Came the reply.  
  
"What?" Idaho and the pilot replied.  
  
"You are to fly through this cliff. There are a system of tunnels present which lead to the desired destination, and this route appears to give the most stealth."  
  
"Well that's very nice, sir, but I can't see any tunnels."  
  
"Hold on." There was a brief crackling sound, then they heard his voice faintly mutter something about controls. There was another crackle, and then his voice came back; "Right, that should do it."  
  
"What should do what?"  
  
"Just wait..." There was a dull, sonorous sound which was audible over the engines. Idaho peered out of the cockpit, and saw, to his amazement, a large portal open in the cliff edge. It must've been twenty-five metres in diameter, and it lead off into some unfathomable catacombs deep within the ring.  
  
"You expect us to fly through that?" The pilot asked. "That's impossible! We'll crash!"  
  
"You will not if you handle the Carryall correctly." Bomoko replied curtly. "Fly through in a queue formation. I shall close the portal behind you when you have all entered, and then I expect you to reach the Command Centre in less then thirty minutes. Bomoko out." The radio cut off.  
  
"Crazy..." the pilot muttered, but he relayed the information to the other Carryalls. He positioned the craft in front of the door.  
  
"Hang on, everyone!" He yelled through the radio. "It's gonna be a tight squeeze!"  
  
Slowly the Carryalls flew ponderously into the cliff edge, their residual wings barley avoiding the tunnel walls. As the last one disappeared into the darkness, the hole in the cliff began to close. There was a grinding stone on stone sound as it shut the subterranean system off from the outside of the ring. The portal disappeared, as if it had never been.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Bomoko leaned back from the communicator and rubbed his eyes wearily. Already dissent was coming from the Suk doctors over their lack of resources. The Arrakis natives and Guildsmen were starting to suffer from Melange withdrawal. Without an intake soon, they would slip into comas, probably irreversibly. But those weren't foremost on his mind.  
  
"Trooper Byrnes!" He yelled. The man walked up at saluted. "What are the reports form our scouts on the enemy movements?"  
  
"Still the same, sir. Ships, troops and vehicles are moving into position around a five-mile diameter circle, with this frigate as the centre." Bomoko nodded, then dismissed the soldier with a wave.  
  
He sat back. The Covenant were arranging a strike force to annihilate the frigates... He couldn't blame them. If he were in their shoes he'd be doing the same thing, except with a bit more subtlety. For technologically- advanced aliens, they were remarkably uncouth-. He cut that train of thought off. 'You must never expect anything less from your opponents as you would from yourself', he remembered his Mentat training. He must always assume every possibility, despite the first appearances of these creatures.  
  
By the looks of things, they would be ready to attack within three hours. The only thing Bomoko was unsure about was how long they would last. He disliked uncertainties. They were against his training, and besides, they were also too simple. But right now, he had nothing to verify his calculations, so he was left unsure.  
  
He turned and faced the window, seeing in the distance the movement of a large force. He steadied his breathing, and began to mutter the Litany against Fear.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Idaho jumped out of the Carryall, which was hovering over an artificial edge within the subterranean tunnels honeycombing the ringworld. He scanned the area he was on, one hand over his shield, while the Sardaukar quickly followed his example. With a large roaring sound, the Carryall left the landing zone, leaving the strike force to their uncertain fate.  
  
Idaho cracked his neck, then indicated the troops to follow him. They quickly arranged into a formation which allowed the soldiers to isolate a target as soon as possible. They walked forward cautiously towards the door which lead to their target of the Command Centre.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Mentat Ingsley looked up at the sound of ornithopters on a flight pattern. He turned back to the tropical sands, and idly traced a small pattern in it. This island was the only major stronghold bar from the frigates, and it was where the Command Centre was going to be relocated.  
  
Ingsley sighed, then held his head in his hands. His own personal review of the data was not promising. He was more pessimistic then the average Mentat, and so was more inclined to consider the worse – or as he would say, accurate – outcomes of his data.  
  
They were fighting against an opponent who outnumbered them, who had better technology than them, who had a better knowledge of the terrain, who had more strongholds occupied... it didn't take a genius to realise that the chances of them succeeding were going to be rather slim.  
  
The squad of trikes went past him on their regular patrol, their heavy multi-barrelled automatic rifles unmanned at the moment, but Ingsley knew that they would occupied soon enough.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Idaho opened the next door, and shuddered as the sharp winds caused his skin to tighten. He rubbed his hands, then peered out quickly. The opening to the bridge seemed empty so far... he indicated for the Sardaukar to follow him.  
  
The elite troops quickly filed into firing positions, using the large stone block just in front of the door as a blockade. Idaho quickly stuck his head from behind the block and looked down the span of the bridge. Nothing, bar the bolts of green and blue lightning which linked each suspension to the next, moved.  
  
He made a small hand-signal ordering the Sardaukar to wait behind while he moved ahead. He cautiously stepped out from behind the block, drawing his rapier as he did so. Slowly, slowly, he stepped forward. Snow clung to his beard and wispy hair, cooling his face uncomfortably. He checked the bridge again. Nothing. He was about to signal the Sardaukar to follow, when something caught his eye.  
  
It seemed to be, for all the world, a glowing blue sword suspended in mid- air, slowly moving in front of him. Idaho closed his eyes sharply, then opened them, wondering if he was hallucinating. The sword was still there. He began to walk back, when the sword suddenly flung itself up, and a guttural roar seemed to sound from nowhere. Diminutive aliens came into view from behind bulkheads in the bridge, their weapons ready. The sword- vision then flung itself down upon him at an unnerving speed. His hand flicked to his shield, activating it.  
  
The sword flung itself at Idaho with an unimaginable force, and it is at this point which I must draw the reader's attention with a brief scientific fact.  
  
Covenant personal shielding works on an energy-absorption basis, to whit, they will protect the user from harm until a certain amount of exterior energy has impacted against it. At this point, the shield deactivates for a few seconds in order to incorporate the foreign energy into its workings. This form of recycling energy means that a Covenant soldier can have their shield on indefinitely without fear that it will 'run out of power', so to say. Needless to say, if an there is energy in excess of the shield's absorption rate, then the remaining energy will impact against the actual wearer of the shield. This is the reason why plasma swords were so fatal. They exposed the recipient of their strikes with enough energy to cut through several inches of lead without pause.  
  
The Holtzman generator, however, works on a different basis. They work on the Phase One of the suspensor-nullification effect. This means that when the user activates the shield, only objects moving at a slow rate, six to nine centimetres per second, are allowed to move through the shield. Anything else is repelled from the shield at an equal rate at which it impacted against the field. Basically, this means that a shield wearer can easily stand and be shot at for as long as the battery charge allows without getting hurt. Disadvantages are that air can quickly become stale as little new air replaces the old air, and senses are lowered, especially sound.  
  
The result of these differences became apparent to the cloaked Elite when her sword, originally aimed to decapitate the human, broke in two. She paused, staring at the stump of her weapon in disbelief. Idaho, in retaliation turned on the spot, and stabbed forward with his rapier.  
  
The sword went straight through the unshielded Elite. Idaho braced his legs, then raised the squealing creature above his head, blood alternately hitting his face or bouncing off of his shield. With a quick gesture, he flung the alien off of the edge of the bridge, then flicked his sword into the ready position, splattering a line of purple blood on the bridge floor.  
  
There was a brief silence form both the humans and the aliens as they saw the Elite fall to her death. Then the creatures wailed in horror and the humans yelled in victory. 'Killing with the point lacks artistry' Idaho recalled the words of his ancestor, 'but don't let that hold your hand when the opening presents itself'. Idaho deactivated his shield, then joined the Sardaukar in pursuit of the fleeing aliens before they alerted anyone to their presence.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
"Contact!"  
  
The cry startled Bomoko out of his trance, and he quickly turned to the radio which had uttered the report.  
  
"How many?" He barked into the transceiver, clearing his mind of distractions.  
  
"Uh... all of them, I think." Replied the soldier with a frightened tone.  
  
Other reports started to come in. "Look sharp! Enemies coming in!" "On your left!" "God, how many of them are there?!"  
  
He quickly assessed the situation, then turned back to address the soldiers over the radio network. "Men, I must ask you to provide a suitable defence necessary to keep these creatures off of this ship. Until the Command Centre has been transferred to the map room, we need to stay put." He switched the radio off, then turned to Byrnes. "Inform the Suk doctors that we need every patient ready as soon as possible to use weapons." The man nodded, then ran off.  
  
Bomoko chewed his lip, thinking furiously, then turned back to the radio transceiver, sending a signal to the remaining strong-points.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
The sudden crackle of static from the radio startled Ingsley from using the 'Silent Cartographer', as it had now been identified. He reached for the radio, cursing the fact that the device was deep underground. Radio waves did not travel well through earth.  
  
"...I repeat..." came the crackled voice of Bomoko, his worried tone clear even through the static. "We ha-... -tiple conta-... we will hol-... -r as long as w- ... -daho will be tran-... -on, so our Comm-... -here. Until the-... -od have mercy upon us. Bomo-..." The radio died.  
  
Ingsley nodded his head sagely, then turned to the Cartographer, and used it to focus on the sections where the Command Centre of the ring, and where the Command frigate were.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Idaho grimaced as the squad slowly moved through up to the top of the large pyramid-like structure. At the top was their goal, but their rate of movement was distressingly slow. They did not have the numbers for a full- frontal assault, and so were left to use stealth to move up the structure, killing quietly and quickly.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
A burst of gunfire sounded form the radio, startling Bomoko. He calmed himself down, feeling his heart slow gradually. A victorious laugh emitted from the speakers. "Ha-ha! Got one!"  
  
There was the short, sharp barks of a long-range rifle, first form only one position, then from two, three, four, then all. "For intergalactic aliens, they sure are dumb!" One soldier yelled.  
  
A large explosion sounded mingled with alien cries. There was a yell of victory from the defenders. "This is easy!" "I hear that!" "Watch your left flank, they're-" "I've got 'em..." More gunfire.  
  
First the bullets came in a few single-shot rounds. Then on semi- automatic, then on full auto. "This is like a duck shoot, man!" "Watch those buggers, they're getting close..." "Hey, has anyone got anymore ammo? I'm almost out." "It's getting a bit hot up here..."  
  
A scream. "Shit! They got Arkie!" "Stow that whining, soldier! You've got another arm!" "Suck on this!" The sound of a grenade exploding. A human yell of pain, followed by the sound of someone firing off an entire magazine.  
  
"I said short, controlled bursts!" "Watch out, man!" "Fire in the hold!" "Hey, I'm out of grenades, here-" The voice was cut off by an explosion. "Incoming! Alien bandits dead ahead!" "I got 'em!" Bullets burst from a heavy machine gun. There was another explosion, and the gunfire stopped.  
  
"I said watch that flank, goddammit!" "Sorry sir! There's too ma-" "Shit! Watch out!" "God-damn! Don't these guys ever give up?" Barks from a pistol. "Bullets are my gift to you..." one soldier hissed, probably unaware the radio was on.  
  
Another scream. "Oh God!" Sobbing. "God preserve me!" "Get a medic up here!" The sizzling sound of plasma against flesh. "Fuck... I'm blind, man..." "You're not, okay? You're fine, you've... you've just got blood in your eyes."  
  
"God-DAMN..." One soldier hissed. "Look out! Dropships!" "Nail 'em!" "I can't sir! I've got a squad right on top of me!" The sharp gibberish of alien war-language. The buzzing sound of hot plasma burning through air.  
  
"Ah! It burns!" "On your left! There! There! There!" More firing. "Nail those fuckers...!" The sound of someone reloading. "I've got 'em!" Plasma bursts. "No, I don't!"  
  
"They're planting charges on the main doors!" "Stop them!" bullets thudded into earth and flesh. "Ha-ha! Not so tough now, are w-" the voice was cut off by the sound of burning. There was brief silence, broken by gunfire and incoherent yells, both human and alien.  
  
Gasping. The slow, laboured gasping of a dying person. "Oh God..." "Hold on, man!" "Oh God... God help me! God have mercy on me!" "Shut up! You're going to be fine! Fuck..." the voice quietened. "Medic!" The gasping started to slow. "Don't do this to me, man! Stay in there! Just hold on- damn!" The sound of a rifle mingled with whimpers of horror. "That got 'em! Yeah! That na- Goodall? Goodall? You stil- Damn!"  
  
An explosion rocked the entire ship. "They've breached the doors! Every man for himself!" Gunfire, this time audible with normal hearing. Screams and battle cries. Bomoko closed his eyes, and began to mutter the Litany against Fear over and over as he heard the fighting get closer and closer.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
R&R, please. 


	5. Counterstrike

Disclaimer: As ever, I own nothing from this story. Even the original idea is someone else's. Read that story. It's good.  
  
Anyway, on with the show!  
  
&&&&&&  
  
The doors that separated the passageway to the Command Centre creaked open ponderously, and a white veil of snow and ice blew inside, covering the glass floor with a type of icing.  
  
Uoolusarmun looked up from one of the portable terminals that were strewn about the corridor. The Covenant forces had occupied this area many hours ago, having being left with orders to hold the position until their engineers relieved them of this ridiculous baby-sitting operation in this thrice-damned temple. He looked at the terminal's chronometer. The engineers were early.  
  
"Greetings of the battle-day brothers!" He called as he turned away from the terminal, walking towards the doorway. He looked around with mounting curiosity. No one was there.  
  
"Brethren? Are you there?" Uoolusarmun walked forward cautiously towards the chilled air. His feet scraped against snow, and he winced at the sudden cold.  
  
"Breth-" His voice caught in his throat. The perimeter guards were strewn about the ground, their blood colouring the snow a deep violet. With mounting shock he realised that they had all been killed with one blow. They had no time for retaliation.  
  
His hand flew to his holstered weapon, and he levelled it at the ramp leading to the level, then he adjusted his aim to the ramp which led up to the vantage point. He had heard rumours of an unseen opponent who slaughtered Covenant forces on a space-port. He had laughed at those rumours then, but now...  
  
The gun trembled in his hand, and he stepped backwards. Slight glimmers in the air made him aim the weapon wildly. He took another step back. His mind was racing. He knew that he should warn the rest of the guards further inside, but his limbs were as paralyzed as if the snow had froze them in place. On the verges of his hearing, a slight scuffle came from behind him, followed by the skin-crawling sound of metal piercing flesh. He was too late. The enemy had already infiltrated the Centre...  
  
He turned around just in time to see Idaho swing his rapier with a grim finality, cutting his throat open effortlessly.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Ingsley was crouching at the lip of the abyss, staring down at its unimaginable depths, when the radio crackled into life.  
  
"-gsley? Ingsley? Are you there?" Idaho's uncouth voice yelled.  
  
"This is Ingsley. What is your status?"  
  
"We have infiltrated the Command Centre and are ready to transfer control to your position. Are you prepared?"  
  
Ingsley quickly scanned the Cartographer's controls. "That's affirmative, Idaho. Begin transmission as soon as possible."  
  
"Agreed." The transmission cut off, leaving Ingsley in silence. All he could do now was wait...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Idaho's hands quickly flew over the lighted controls, following the procedure Bomoko had instructed him to do. Alien runes and signals lit up as he began to send control over to the small island where Ingsley was.  
  
Idaho stepped back. "There," he stated to the Sardaukar arranged around the control room. "We have approximately five minutes before complete control has been sent to the island. Until then..." he stepped back, and turned to face the doorway where already alien cries were echoing through. "We have to prevent any enemy interference."  
  
The Sardaukar nodded in unison and drew their flensing knives while activating their personal shields. Idaho picked his rapier off from the floor and flourished it, holding it in the 'ready' position favoured by the Swordmasters of Ginaz. The alien sounds became louder. The soldiers stepped forward, ready to battle.  
  
The first alien rounded the corner and, seeing the Sardaukar in front of him, opened fire with a plasma pistol. All the fiery green globes hit, but they spattered uselessly against the personal shields.  
  
The humans charged forward, bellowing battle cries for the Emperor. More aliens rounded the corner and charged forward too, drowning out the human's voices with their screams of rage.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Byrnes ducked behind cover as alien fire crackled overhead. Another conscript was not so fast, and died, his face a burning mass of flesh. Pardee responded by emptying an entire magazine at the aliens while hidden behind cover. More plasma fire was his reply, and Byrnes jerked back from the metal as it increased in temperature. He cursed Idaho's name, wondering why in the name of hell had he not transferred control?  
  
&&&&&&  
  
The grunt screamed briefly until his head was removed from his shoulder with a spray of bight blue blood. Idaho twisted around, stabbing out, causing another creature to impale themselves on his blade with their momentum.  
  
A human yell distracted him, and he turned to see one Sardaukar flail about, bright purple shards sticking out of his body. Those alien rifles fired projectiles slow enough to penetrate the Holtzman generator. There was a purple explosion, and the man collapsed, quite dead.  
  
Idaho swung back to the fight around him, noticing a large alien swing it's rifle like a club. His shield absorbed the blow effortlessly, and Idaho preformed a slight riposte with a flick of his rapier. The blue shielding flared, but did not burn out.  
  
There was another human cry. One soldier had been swarmed by the small Covenant who managed to get through the shielding. Their pistols quickly broiled the man to death when fired within the shield boundary.  
  
Idaho cursed and ducked another rifle blow. He fell to the ground, kicking out at the creature's knee, trying to trip it. The alien avoided the blow, hooting aggressively. It lunged out with its foot, trying to smash Idaho's face. The shield absorbed the blow, but the elite pressed on with the attack. The limb slipped through the shield and landed on Idaho's head, pressing it into the glass floor mercilessly. Idaho yelled in pain, but could not lift his head off the ground. The creature pressed more weight onto its limb, attempting to crush his opponent's skull.  
  
Idaho deactivated his shield, and swung his blade up through the creature's shin. The alien collapsed, screaming as blood spurted out from the stump. Idaho quickly placed both his feet against the creature's neck, and stabbed upwards, impaling one of the diminutive aliens. Then, using both of the Covenant's bodies as a type of springboard, twirled off of the ground, breaking the elite's neck as he did so. He quickly activated his shield, in time to see another soldier collapse under the press of alien bodies.  
  
"Back to the Command Centre!" Idaho yelled, swinging out at an opponent wildly. "We make our stand there!" The Sardaukar quickly disengaged from their duels, flinging throwing knives at point-blank range to occupy their opponents. The squad quickly retreated to their previous position, the Covenant snapping at their heels.  
  
Idaho slammed at the controls to shut the door, a tactic that would delay the Covenant for only a few seconds, but those were seconds, which could mean victory or defeat.  
  
His eyes quickly scanned the timer. With a jolt of shock, he realised that according to this terminal, command control had been sent for some time. He gaped in disbelief, then tears stung his eyes as he came to the conclusion that there must have been a transmitting error. He turned back to the door, which was already opening, and prepared to die.  
  
There was a flash of orange-yellow.  
  
The door opened up to an empty room..  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Idaho opened his eyes in shock. There was an unpleasant sensation of rapid movement, but he knew he had not moved from a standing position. Then he, and the laws of centrifugal force, realised that he was upside- down.  
  
He twisted, landing on his shoulder sharply. Other impacts alerted him that the remaining Sardaukar were also here... wherever here was.  
  
"Excellent!" A tidy voice said. "The ringworld's teleportation device still appears to function!"  
  
Idaho looked up from his prone position. "Ingsley?" He asked in disbelief.  
  
"The very one." Ingsley smiled, and held out a hand to the grateful Idaho, who accepted it. "I'm sorry about the transport method, but I'm afraid I had no time or option to consider an alternative. I'm sure I can compensate for my earlier error. For some bizarre reason the original architects of this place have inversed pitch and rotation, but I am sure I could-"  
  
"Ingsley..." Idaho said slowly. "What just happened?"  
  
"It appears to be one of the options available to users of the ringworld. Some type of matter-energy converter, which allows transportation of solids, liquids and gases by converting them to a form of radiation. Such conversion allows for almost instantaneous movement of aforesaid objects." Ingsley smiled condescendingly. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Fine, fine..." Idaho cut himself off. "What is the condition of the frigate under assault? Have you sent a mes-"  
  
"Do not worry, Captain." Ingsley reassured. "I have already sent a message to Bomoko. He will arrange the evacuation of the frigate, and hopefully most of the personnel will escape."  
  
"What about the Command Centre back at the arctic area?"  
  
Ingsley grinned the type of grin somebody wore when something unpleasant was about to happen to somebody else. "Don't worry, Captain, I have left the Covenant a... a little surprise..."  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Kwentin'tar'Nteeno levelled his rifle at the empty room. A brief gesture, and the remainder of the squad moved in, their weapons aiming from one point to another.  
  
"Where have the humans gone?" He asked in wonder, lowering his weapon cautiously. Another blue-armoured elite walked forward to the main control panel.  
  
"Curious... we still appear to have full Halo control. In fact, nothing appears to have changed." The elite looked at Kwentin'tar'Nteeno with a quizzical expression. "Why would they attempt to take over this area, and then do nothing to it?"  
  
"Who can fathom the human mind?" He replied. "Quickly, activate the Halo's schematics." The elite nodded, and her hands flickered over the panel. There was a faint chiming sound, then the control panel deactivated, and a large rectangular device teleported on the bridge leading to the Command Centre.  
  
"Odd..." The elite said. "That wasn't supposed to happen..."  
  
Kwentin'tar'Nteeno walked towards it slowly, his rifle armed. Three steps away... Two steps... One... He tilted his head to one side. "This device appears to be static." He proclaimed, lowering the rifle.  
  
A slight movement caught his eye. "No, wait. There are some lights here..." Kwentin'tar'Nteeno peered at the strange shapes. First there was a vertical line to the left of a circle, then a circle to the left of a vertical line which had a smaller circle attached to the upper-left hand side of it... "Sister, can you decipher these symbols?" He called out.  
  
The elite walked over to the device. She peered at them for a short while. "Well, they are not repeating themselves, so it is not some type of condition monitor." She fell silent. "I am at a loss as to what it is."  
  
Kwentin'tar'Nteeno looked back at the symbols. Now it was a circle to the left of a rather complex rune made of two vertical lines and three horizontal lines. Then it was a circle to the left of a horizontal line which had three vertical lines attached to it, two above it, one below it.  
  
He slowly felt a hollow feeling in his abdomen. He had heard of such times when somebody could accurately predict what was going to happen without any evidence. He had a prediction from these symbols. And it was not a good one...  
  
A circle to the left of one vertical line... Two circles, side-by-side...  
  
Boom.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
"This is Bomoko." The tannoy snapped. An explosion and a wave of heat nearly destroyed the speaker entirely. "Evacuate the frigate using the landed 'thopters at the flight deck. I say again, evacuate the ship." The tannoy crackled off.  
  
Byrnes coughed on the greasy smoke, and rubbed his red-raw eyes. A flurry of plasma impacted around his position. His gaze wandered over to Pardee, who was reloading his rifle. Pardee met his gaze.  
  
"Do you have a feeling of déjà vu, too?" He called over as he slammed the magazine into the breach and chambered a round. He quickly emptied the magazine in short, sharp bursts. "Come on, lets get out of here!"  
  
Byrnes nodded, stepping up. The frigate seemed to shake and become unsteady under his feet, and he had to lunge a hand out against the wall to keep from falling over. Pardee gripped him roughly, and began tugging him down a corridor, leaving the position.  
  
They came to a fork. Byrnes quickly looked up at the signs. "We need to go left!" He yelled at Pardee. Pardee shook his head, and indicated the right passageway. Byrnes looked at the sign. Armoury.  
  
A burst of alien gunfire made him duck slightly, then he helped Pardee hobble off towards their destination.  
  
A few hundred yards on, and a doorseal blocked their passage. Byrnes cursed, and punched his numeric pass into the badly-abused keypad at the side. There was a dull tone, and the keypad shattered, flames pouring out of the cracks.  
  
"We have to fall back!" He yelled at Pardee. "We cannot pass through this doorseal!"  
  
Pardee shook him off, and looked at the ocular input device. He knelt down, and pressed his face against it. Alien cries caused Byrnes to spin around in fear. He pulled at Pardee's shoulder.  
  
"We can't use that! We don't have the-" There was a chiming sound, and the door opened. "-permission..." Byrnes looked at Pardee with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"Tricks of the trade, friend." He quickly ran through, tugging Byrnes along as he did so. The door closed behind them and locked again.  
  
"That'll hold them off for a while..." Pardee muttered, scanning the corridors for a sign for the armoury. Some lettering caught his eye, and he limped off in the direction it indicated, Byrnes in tow.  
  
A plasma charge shook the frigate, and the moan of tortured metal reverberated through the entire ship. Another explosion, up ahead, came into view. Some other conscripts ran up to it, firing wildly. There were the crashes and bangs of a close-range firefight. The two troopers stepped into a small alcove.  
  
"Look!" Byrnes whispered. Two doors on their left was a door with 'Armoury' over it. It was only a few feet away, but with the Covenant so close... Byrnes chewed his lip, checking how many rounds he had left in his rifle. Not much.  
  
"Oh, hell, let's go!" Pardee snapped, pulling Byrnes once again with him. They sprinted to the door, and pulled it open. A few aliens noted their movement, and fired at them. One shot sparked against Byrnes helmet, causing him to throw it away instinctively. Another flourish of fire, and Byrnes fell into the Armoury.  
  
"We haven't got much time. Get what you need..." Pardee muttered, shoving Byrnes at a weapons rack. Byrnes quickly scanned the rack, then picked up a fifteen-millimetre machine gun with a few magazines. He picked up a small flechette pistol as an afterthought, slotting it into a holster.  
  
He heard a slow whistle from behind him, and he turned to see Pardee pick up a large, bulky and crude looking rifle. Byrnes himself nearly stood back in awe. A fabled lasgun. The favoured weapon of the Sardaukar... he shivered briefly at knowing that this frigate had one. Pardee walked past him, fully armed, his new rifle slung over his shoulder awkwardly. "C'mon! If we hurry, we can make it!"  
  
Pardee sidestepped out into the corridor, where some Covenant were now walking out of the smog-like smoke. One of the creatures, the newt-like creature that held some type of energy shield, hissed at the sight of him, and lowered its shield in front of it.  
  
The purple beam from the lasgun overloaded the shield almost immediately. The beam continued, severing the shield-arm from the body, the stump cauterised to a burning lump of steaming flesh. Another blow cut both legs off of the creature. It was dead before it hit the ground.  
  
Another Covenant opened fire with one of the alien weapons. Pardee rolled, and fired again. Another Covenant met a violent burning death.  
  
Byrnes tugged at Pardee, ducking as a near miss burned hairs off of his naked head. Pardee fired off another purplish beam, laughing in a bloodlust. Byrnes turned and ran down the corridor, Pardee following him slightly slower, firing his weapon off into the static-filled smoke.  
  
On and on they ran. They hot air they breathed seemed to drown them. Each step was agony. Hot lead ran in their over-strained veins, but on they ran. A corridor advertising that it led to the 'thopter bay appeared to their right. Byrnes turned and sprinted, his limbs ready to go on strike any second now.  
  
Byrnes jammed his heels into the metal grill, stumbling as he tried to slow down his momentum. His feet seesawed in an exaggerated fashion on the lip of the hull breach, causing him to lean forward.  
  
The ground was so far below him that when he would hit it, there would be a mere smear on the ground, nothing else. As he tottered about in an extravagant manner, he saw several 'thopters fly out of the bay. Blue-and- purple fire impacted around two 'thopters, causing them to melt and explode in fiery conflagrations. A blow from behind caused him to over-balance, and he tipped over...  
  
A hand gripped his suit collar roughly. He was suspended over the drop again, and he noted with a type of surreal, out-of-body way that people on the ground were actually the size of ants. He thought that had just been a metaphor...  
  
There was a clatter of the lasgun falling over the edge, and he felt another hand grip his shoulder. His eyes followed the pin-wheeling weapon as it bounced off of the side of the frigate, splintering into small, unimaginable pieces... he shook himself mentally, and braced his legs against the edge, pushing himself back into the ship, collapsing onto Pardee who made a loud 'oof!' sound.  
  
Byrnes got up, staring at more 'thopters leaving the frigate, then turned to Pardee. "Oh, thanks a lot, Pardee!" He snapped. "If we hadn't stopped to get weapons, we could've reached the bay in time! Now we're stuck here!" He wiped his forehead in a distracted fashion as the adrenaline in his body was overcome by the disbelief of shock. "What the fuck do we do now?!" He asked, a trifle hysterically.  
  
Pardee peered around the corner they had just left, then ducked his head back. "There's a slim chance..." he muttered, "...but you need to stay calm."  
  
"Oh, sure! Sure! I'll be calm! Yeah, I'm fine! I'm so cool you could keep a side of meat in me for a month! I'm so relaxed people think I'm in a coma! Now will you shut up and tell me what the hell we are going to do?!"  
  
"Fear not, Byrnes..." Pardee muttered. "I have a cunning plan..."  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Bomoko shuddered as plasma tracer stitched the skies next to his 'thopter. Cold, stinking sweat drowned his skin, and his eyes were frantic. Not even his logical Mentat mind could keep him from panic.  
  
He looked back at the rapidly disappearing frigate and glared furiously. Only a quarter-wing of 'thopters made it out. And few of those were armed 'thopters...  
  
He leaned his head back on the vibrating metal surface and wondered if the remaining troops had any chance of escape...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Byrnes stared at the object in front of him, then stared at Pardee. "You're insane." He said levelly.  
  
Pardee shrugged, then jumped up to the multi-barrelled machine gun, arming it. "If you have a better idea, Byrnes, I'd like to hear it." He adjusted the grip, and began to swing it from side-to-side, testing its manoeuvrability.  
  
Byrnes shook his head, then jumped into the driver's seat. A brief check, all systems go. He gunned the engine, and immediately reversed into the frigate wall.  
  
Pardee lurched forward, then glared at Byrnes, who shrugged apologetically, and put the quad into gear. The vehicle lurched forward, then spun off, heading towards the main exit, following the 'thopters into the distance...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
R&R everyone! Finally! It's over! 


	6. If wishes were fishes

Disclaimer: I own nothing about Halo, Dune or the idea of interdimensional travel. That was Bombsquad's idea.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Chakosba breathed in the heady scent of battle, and lowered his rifle. It had been a glorious and righteous jihad for the Covenant. The humans had put up a spirited fight in the primary defence, but after the main door to the alien vessel was breached, they had no chance in avoiding the smiting fist and scouring plasma the Covenant gifted them with.  
  
The Elite walked up the corridor, his golden armour reflecting the dull sheen of the crude human lighting, giving the impression that a holy light surrounded him. Which was indeed the case. Why else would he be chosen as one of the most holy warriors?  
  
His pace took him past some Grunts, who bowed frantically, then scurried off to do some labour or another. He looked out one of the many breaches in the human vessel, and smiled.  
  
Clanking footsteps heralded another Elite approaching Chakosba. He turned, drawing himself up in a haughty manner, then inwardly grimaced as he saw the other Elite's armour. Chalcedony. He hated those night-clad soldiers. Yes, they may be good fighters, but where was their faith? Chakosba often found that their nature was not as pious as the other Covenant soldiers, and because of that, Chakosba found them irritable, if not slightly repulsive. Nevertheless, they were his superiors. Chakosba bowed, and the other Elite acknowledged the gesture.  
  
"Greetings of the battle-day, brother. I am Aeroeals'Haron." The black-armoured Elite said. "I presume you are Commander Chakosba?"  
  
Chakosba nodded curtly. "Greetings Aeroeals'Haron." Another thing he despised. The lack of ranks. He could be acting in a subordinate manner to a mere sergeant!  
  
"It appears to me as if we have driven off the humans from their ship, not so?" The Elite tilted his head to the left, a Covenant version of a raised eyebrow. "What are the battle statistics, Chakosba?"  
  
Chakosba gritted his jaw angrily. This popinjay showed no respect to him, a veteran of three major jihads and twenty fatwa's! "We are yet to receive all the information, but it appears as if the humans have been drive off of this vessel. Preliminary investigation has revealed it to be likely that the humans used it as a control centre. It appears as if we have already won." The Fanatic-soldier smirked. "Such a shame. We could have stained the ground with the blood of a score more hundred humans, if only they didn't flee."  
  
The night-covered marine tilted his head again. "Really? You think we have won the battle, that the humans are falling back in disarray?"  
  
Chakosba nodded.  
  
"Well then, it will come to a surprise to you then, that the Halo Command Centre has been completely demolished, not so?"  
  
"Demolished?" Chakosba tilted his head. "Was it an accident?"  
  
"Unfortunately not. The entire temple was destroyed by a high-yield explosive; our analysists believe some form of fission-based weapon. Besides from our fuel-rod guns, we possess no fission-based weapons. Halos do not depend on any form of fission power. Ergo, the humans must've deliberately destroyed it."  
  
Chakosba shrugged. "So what? It will take us longer to destroy these humans. If worse comes to worse, we need only to request more reinforcements."  
  
"So what?" Aeroeals'Haron repeated, a slight tone of menace in his voice. "Chakosba, I do not think you have full grasp of this. With the Command Centre destroyed, we have no way of getting back to our universe through this Halo. We do not know how far it is to the next Halo. We do not know if such Halo's are operable. We are cut off."  
  
"We are the Covenant." Chakosba stated, simply.  
  
"Do you think such a declaration will go down well with our troops? You may think, in your martyr-fuelled dreams that these soldiers will fight through, no matter the odds, but they are just mortals. Such news will break them."  
  
"What you state is heresy, Aeroeals'Haron." Chakosba whispered. "They will fight, or they will die."  
  
The other Elite was about to admonish Chakosba when a slight chime alerted him. He unclipped a miniaturised portable terminal from his belt, and held it to his face. Lights from the screen danced and flittered across his face.  
  
"Well, it seems as if I have some good news on that topic. However, it also seems as if I have some bad news."  
  
"Elaborate."  
  
"One of our destroyers, 'The Bloody-Handed Zealot' detected a massive surge of energy from the Command Centre, just before it was destroyed. It seems as if the control centre was relocated elsewhere." The Elite grinned. "We may have a chance of getting off of this world after all."  
  
"Most excellent."  
  
"However, this means that the humans have purposely relocated the Command Centre to another part of the Halo. We also do not know where it has been relocated." The black-clad Elite looked at Chakosba. "Do you think you are capable of arranging a strike team to locate and capture the relocated Command Centre?"  
  
Chakosba grinned. "I do not think so. I know so."  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Aeroeals'Haron grimaced as he saw the dropship slowly fly off into the distance, carrying that narrow-minded fanatic-leader. He shook his head. He had no idea of how to deal with anything subtler than a club, but then again, that was how he'd been trained.  
  
He turned away from the hull breach, and activated his communicator, which relayed the message about how he now had control over the securing of the human's base. He walked briskly over to where the stock-taker, an Elite marked out by his white and grey clothing. "Greetings of the battle- day, sister. What is the statistics of this capture?"  
  
The diminutive alien glanced at him briefly; he saw a brief glimpse of fear on her face. Good. Always good to see that their troopers weren't becoming idiotic on the advent of the Great War.  
  
"Well, sir, this appears to have been some form of military landing craft, used for deploying a multitude of weapons, soldiers and vehicles on the ground."  
  
Aeroeals'Haron gestured for her to go on.  
  
"It appears that this ship could hold roughly one thousand soldiers, fifty vehicles and a full complement of flyers. We so far have accounted for forty-five percent of these forces."  
  
"Good, good..." Aeroeals'Haron did some quick mental arithmetic and smiled. "Did we capture any enemy personnel?"  
  
"We managed to capture five soldiers, and they are currently being interrogated by our fleet-inquisitors. We have also managed to capture many of the enemy's weapons and equipment. The soldiers appear to use projectile weapons stereotypical of the USCN, but of a much cruder design."  
"However, a few pieces of technology have been found which are alarmingly complex." She picked up a large rifle, quite bulk and archaic in design. "This crude-looking weapon is actually one of the most deadly fire-arms I have ever seen. It utilises a small reactor to power a laser. This laser is outrageously powerful, and can cut through both shielding and armour with immaculate ease. However, it is hard to carry, hard to maintain, and often overheats, with ninety-percent critical damage."  
  
"I'm glad to hear that."  
  
"Another piece of technology that we managed to obtain is this:" She held up a coin-shaped device. "This may look simple, but in actual fact, it is a device of immense cunning. Upon activation, it emits a field large enough to encompass an entire personnel." The Elite activated it, and stood back. There was a small whine, and a shimmering haze separated the two Covenant from the device.  
  
"Rather like our own personal shielding, not so?"  
  
The other Elite shook gestured negative. "No. It is actually much more protective. It does not absorb energy until it is depleted. It instead repels the energy with the amount of force that it inflicted upon the shield. Observe:" The Elite drew a small plasma pistol, and fired at the shield continually until the weapon over-heated. The device was unharmed.  
"It seems any projectile will be repelled by this shield, making the wearer quite invulnerable, until we discover a way to counteract the shield. However, we have discovered something that will penetrate such shielding."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Oddly enough, sir, it is Needler rounds. For some reason, I am at a loss to say, Needler rounds can easily penetrate and damage the wearer of the shield."  
  
"How bizarre."  
  
"My sentiments exactly, sir. We also discovered that wearers of such a shield also experience a form of sensory deprivation, to whit; it is harder to hear and to smell things around you. Senses dependent on atomic motion are dulled, which could be an exploitable weakness."  
  
"Perhaps..." Aeroeals'Haron looked thoughtful. "I'll order some research into it." He looked back at the Elite. "Anything else?"  
  
The Elite made an apathetic gesture. "Not really, sir, clothing, lighting, armour... we're applying the routine inspections of such things..." She snapped her head up, having remembered something. "There was also something else." She walked towards a human shipment-box.  
  
"What is it?" Aeroeals'Haron asked.  
  
"The markings on the side of the box translate as 'Melange'. We are not sure exactly what that means, but after we inspected for any viral or biological agents, we opened it to find this..." The Elite opened the box and stood back.  
  
A pungent, pleasurable smell assaulted Aeroeals'Haron's senses. If he had known of such things, he would've described it as a burned cinnamon smell... with possibly the faintest hints of aniseed...  
  
"Our chemical sensors have analysed it. It seems to be formed by a glycocarbon-protein, with a few trace elements here and there. So far we have discovered twenty such containers. Our analysts have found no military advantage in this chemical, but we have decided to keep it, possible see what happens to the humans when they are exposed to it."  
  
"Perhaps..." Aeroeals'Haron sniffed the air, trying to recall the scent. The Elite went to close the container, but he stopped her. "Let me." He stated, looking benign. "Have you written up a report to send back to our superiors about the discoveries?"  
  
"Well, sir, with the Halo unable to reactivate the teleporter, I thought it to be wiser to-"  
  
"You thought wrong." Aeroeals'Haron snapped. "Write up a report immediately. I'll shall oversee the operations here." The Elite flinched under the verbal slap, then stalked off.  
  
Aeroeals'Haron walked over to the container, and looked at the contents. It was filled to the brim with some sort of ground material, a red-brown sand, except the scent it gave off was hinted slightly with some type of moisture.  
  
He tilted his head to the left, then slowly reached forward, scooping up a handful...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Bomoko was jolted from his internal thoughts by the wing-flight engine of the 'thopter switching off, being replaced by guiding jets. One of the conscripts opened the side door, and Bomoko peered out. The smell of salt water and sulphur bombarded his nose, and for a moment disorientated him. Then the sun hit his face, and he awoke to the land of the living.  
  
The 'thopter was currently circling a small, but heavily guarded, island. Bomoko quickly scanned the defences, checking for weak points in the defensive net. So far, he could not see any.  
  
With a whine of slowing turbines, the 'thopter descended to the ground, cuing the passengers to leap out. The transport then peeled off, flying to some other destination elsewhere on the ringworld. Bomoko tracked its movement, shielding his eyes against the tropical sun. A soldier placed a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Sir? You should go to command. They're waiting for you."  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Sharp, controlled footsteps caused Idaho to place his hand on the rapier's handle, but his grip fell when he saw Bomoko stride through into the 'Silent Cartographer' room, as Ingsley had called it.  
  
"Bomoko, allow me to introduce you to Mentat Ingsley." Idaho stated, gesturing at the latter to the former. Bomoko acknowledged Ingsley with a nod, but Ingsley was too engrossed with the information from the ringworld's main computer.  
  
"Ingsley has uncovered a great deal about this artificial planet-"  
  
"It's more than just an artificial planet, my dear Captain Idaho." Ingsley interrupted. "There is much more to this, this, masterpiece than some form of residence!"  
  
Bomoko raised an eyebrow. "Continue..."  
  
Ingsley looked at Bomoko with frantic, almost possessed, eyes. "This is an ancient piece of incredible technology, designed to link multiple realities with one another-"  
  
"Multiple what?" Idaho asked.  
  
"Multiple realities!" Ingsley repeated. "Uh, imagine this; say I took this glove..." He removed his with a flourish, "...and threw it into the air thus; there is equal chances of it landing palm up or down. Here, it has landed palm down, but since there was an equal chance of it landing palm up, logically, there must've been a point of complete uncertainty in the universe, where two conclusions could occur."  
"In another reality, it could be exactly the same, except the glove landed palm up. Now, this was all hypothetical, but according to the data here, this ringworld, or Halo, as it is termed, allows access to these different realities. This is where these creatures came from. Another reality."  
  
"So this is why the Bene Gesserit desired this to be destroyed..." Idaho mused. "For the first time, I agree with them."  
  
"There's more to it than that! There is also some type of a weapons cache, three revolutions upspin from our current position. It's located somewhere in a marshland, but I'm sure we could access it easily. There's also-"  
  
"That's all well and good, Ingsley." Bomoko cut in. "But can this help us in the fight against these Covenant?  
  
Ingsley frowned at the interruption, but replied; "Ye-es, it can. Using the Halo's internal scanners..." His hands moved briefly over the light- panel, and a holographic representation of the ring appeared, with various icons denoting Covenant and human positions. "...we can spy on enemy movements and control our soldiers very easily."  
  
"This detail is much better than anything we have developed..." Idaho muttered, staring at the hologram.  
  
"Oh yes. Even though this is millennia old, it is still more advanced than anything we have ever developed, even pre-Butlerian Jihad. However, as to be expected, the Halo is in some state of disrepair..."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Several 'drone junctions', a type of power-point, I should imagine, decayed beyond use. It appears that some sort of artificial 'guide' was powered by one of these junctions. Shame, really. It could have told us more about the Halo's past in detail-"  
  
"Ingsley, as fascinating as this alien history is, we do not have time for archaeology. What can you tell us about the enemy's movement, and our missing soldiers?" Idaho snapped.  
  
Ingsley shot Idaho a reproachful glare, but turned back to the holo- map, and began.  
  
"From this map, I have found that the Covenant have four major strongholds, all in the form of spaceships, which appear to have transtellar capabilities. We, on the other hand, have only three. This island, and the remaining two frigates."  
"While we do have forces scattered throughout Halo, it is not possible to unify them into a coherent strike force, so we have sent commands for them to engage the enemy in guerrilla warfare."  
  
His hands danced along the light-panel, and the four Covenant ships appeared. "Although they are much smaller than a Highline, or indeed, a frigate, these ships are more than able to battle an entire armada of our ships, and win, mainly because of their superior firepower."  
"However, at this time, these ships are currently holding position over the Halo, in order to deploy troops." The image flew away, and a real- time scene appeared, showing one of the ships over the ground.  
  
"This is the ship; 'The Bloody-Handed Zealot'. It was the ship used to primarily arrange the attack on our main frigate. As you can see from this view, the Covenant utilise some type of anti-gravity transport to move troops and supplies to ground level." As Ingsley said this, the group could see Covenant dragging some captured equipment from the frigate onto the pad, then sent it hurtling skywards.  
  
"Why are they moving our cargo?" Idaho queried.  
  
"In order to study it further. They have tried to send signals reporting their status back to wherever they came from, but thankfully, I have managed to impede their messages."  
"Already, the nearest ships to the other frigates are deploying troops, and they will swiftly overcome the frigates. If we stay put, we will have no chance of survival. This is the information I give to you."  
  
There was a sullen silence, as Idaho absorbed this data, and the two Mentats processed it. Bomoko stirred, then started to pace the room.  
  
"It's agreed that we cannot have another Heighliner here while the Covenant are still present, so we have to devise a strategy which can allow us to get of this Halo, and prevent the Covenant from following us, or re- activating the Halo, and sending reinforcements."  
He continued to pace, rubbing his jaw, his sapho juice-stained lips pursing in concentration. "Ingsley, you said you had located that so- called 'weapons cache'?"  
  
Ingsley nodded.  
  
"Fine. I have come up with a strategy;"  
"Ingsley; send out a radio request for the scattered troops near the cache to investigate and retrieve the weapons. If they can be used against the Covenant, the more the better. Make sure you tell them how to bypass any barriers on the way."  
"Idaho; I want you to arrange a 'thopter strike and a tank force, both capable of disabling, or occupying two of those Covenant ships."  
  
"What about the other two?"  
  
"I'll get to those. Ingsley!" Ingsley looked up from the radio. "How many atomics do we have?"  
  
"More than enough to destroy this thing two times over, but are you sure we want to d-"  
  
"Good." Bomoko spun on one foot, and turned back to the holo-map. He studied the controls briefly, then started to manipulate them. "Ingsley, how did you manage to extract Idaho and his men so quickly? Never mind," he added, as he quickly scanned the controls. "I've found the teleporter." His fingers tapped as if playing a piano. "This technology will make my strategy much easier. We shall teleport atomics to the following positions;" Twelve points on the edge of the holo-map lit up.  
  
"These points are some form of reactor, I'm not sure how they work, but I do know they create a phenomenal amount of energy. Logically, this energy would be used to power the rotation of the Halo, and maintain the habitats within it. By detonating atomics nearby, we can cause severe damage, ranging to breaching the entire Halo. This is how we shall demolish the Halo."  
"A few other atomics shall be teleported to one of the Covenant ships. The damage they will cause should disable if not destroy the entire thing. The last ship, we shall capture."  
  
Idaho laughed, Ingsley looked on in disbelief. "I don't know whether you noticed, Bomoko, but we couldn't defend ourselves against the Covenant. What makes you think we even have a chance at offence?"  
  
Bomoko smiled. "Because we have an impostor among our troops."  
  
Idaho looked confused, as did Ingsley. "Pardon?"  
  
"Before the Heighliner warped here, I preformed a little analysis on the troops we have. Imagine my surprise when one of the conscripts we had was apparently already dead."  
"I analysed the case further, and found that the man was found dead a day before he walked up and signed up. I studied this fellow for some time, trying to explain this phenomena. Two days later, I found out his, or rather, it's secret."  
"It was no man, but a Face Dancer."  
  
"Excuse me?" Idaho asked in disbelief. "One of my men is a Bene Tleilaxu agent? Why didn't you report it?"  
  
"I thought it would make good blackmail material. Besides of which, I had no concrete proof, only the data I had collected. When the mission had ended, I intended to have him arrested and presented to the Emperor. However... that does not seem like my primary worry at this time."  
  
"So what does this Face Dancer have to do with an attack on the Covenant?"  
  
"A Face Dancer can impersonate anybody and almost anything. Logically, by informing it that unless he helps us, it cannot report to his masters, we get it to impersonate one of the aliens, and infiltrate the final ship. When it has secured the main command on the ship, we shall teleport ourselves to the ship, take it over, gather the remaining troops, detonate the reactors, and leave the Halo, having destroyed both it and the Covenant."  
  
A few minutes passed, then Ingsley whistled slowly, and Idaho pulled a wry face. "What makes you think that the Face Dancer is still alive?"  
  
"Face Dancers are notoriously difficult to kill, having been trained genetically and mentally to be survivors. It'll be alive. All we have to do is track it down, and explain the situation. It'll help us."  
  
"But the other attacks, Bomoko." Ingsley cut in. "How do you purpose them to survive more than five minutes?"  
  
"We'll have to rely on the conscript's skills in order to keep them occupied. Besides, we also have that 'cache' you told us about..."  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Byrnes stopped the quad on the lip of a cliff, and peered back. "I think they have stopped following us." He declared breathlessly.  
  
"A good thin too." Pardee added. "I'm nearly out." He indicated the spinning, smoking, multi-barrelled machine gun. He peered into the muggy horizon. "Are you sure this is where the Carryall is going to be?"  
  
"That's what Ingsley said over the radio. 'All human forces in this area, report to the highest ground, and set off a signal flare..." Byrnes lent down, and let one off. "...and transport shall come along to take you away form the area."  
  
"Where do you think they'll take us?" Pardee asked.  
  
"Somewhere far away from the Covenant, I hope. Maybe to another frigate, who knows..." Byrnes pulled a wry face. "I really just want to fall asleep for a long time, and just not care."  
  
Pardee nodded slowly, and looked down the mountain path. A hissing noise caught his attention. He stuck his head out of the quad, and looked over the edge of the cliff.  
  
"Byrnes, look at that!" He whispered, pointing shakily.  
  
Byrnes' gaze followed Pardee's gesture, and he saw Covenant craft, at least three dropships with an escort of seven Banshees glide below them sinisterly silent.  
  
"Where do you think they're going?" He whispered to Pardee.  
  
"Probably to mop up any survivors from the frigate. Not all of them could've made it far... All we can do is pray that we're found by humans first." He shivered, then looked up at the darkening sky, adjusting the flare so it was more exposed.  
  
Byrnes saw it first, slowly heading towards them. A Carryall. He picked up the now-dwindling flare, and waved it about, getting the pilot's attention. The Carryall waggled its wings, showing it acknowledged the signal, then flew in closer to pick them up.  
  
Byrnes felt the hot air blast him as the engines tipped to bring the Carryall in close. Both men hopped off of the quad as the cumbersome 'carrying' legs, which titled the Carryall with its name, unfolded to engulf the ground car. At the same time, the rear compartment opened up, and a ladder descended, which Byrnes and Pardee both climbed up.  
  
The cabin was refreshingly warm, if slightly oily, and Byrnes breathed a sigh of relief. Pardee sat opposite him, and clenched his hands together, rocking back and forth. Byrnes looked at the other occupants, all of which looked gaunt and haunted.  
  
The annoy crackled, and the pilot's voice came through. "Alright, soldiers, listen up. Us flyboys are taking you to a new home, off in the nice, fetid swamp. You'll be given orders there, so bundle up warm, and no talking to any nasty bug-eyed monsters. Instead, shot them in the head." There was some forced laughter, but it sounded more like sighs of defeat.  
  
The Carryall banked and turned, flying towards the new destination, where the troopers were to unleash the Halo's weapon cache.  
  
What was neglected, however, was what shape the weapons would be in...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
R&R. Oh my! Covenant finding melange! A Face Dancer in their midst! The 'weapons cache' in the middle of the swamp! What a bunch of dues ex machina! Please Review. 


	7. We'd all cast nets

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Of any type, shape or form, so ya boo sucks to you too.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
The Carryall slewed to a halt, its manoeuvring jets activating occasionally to guide it through the thick canopy of trees and reeds. It lowered towards the ground, suspended three feet off of the ground. The rear compartment opened, and the soldiers jumped out.  
  
Byrnes landed heavily, his boots sinking into the fetid quagmire. The air was hot and humid, making him feel as if his lungs were being gripped by some insatiable tormenter. He looked up at the nearby hills shrouded in mist, and sighed.  
  
The sound of speeding turbines told him that the Carryall had left them on their own. The conscripts established a temporary perimeter, securing the area from any possible hostiles. There was the sound of chirping insects and carrion-birds. A few moments passed, and it began to rain. Heavy, grey-warm droplets spattered the squad, causing drowsiness to any in the downpour.  
  
"Alright, people!" The sergeant yelled. "We have been deposited roughly half a click from our desired position. We are to make our way there, where we shall meet up with another two squads! Keep your positions tight, your finger-triggers steady, and we go home in one piece! Now move it!"  
  
The soldiers quickly ran through the marsh land, ignoring the omnipresent glow-flies which danced around their heads. Water from over- flowing puddle leaked through boots, and all the while there was the oppressive humidity, clamping down on their heads and chests.  
  
Pardee spat in disgust. "In the name of God, why couldn't they have placed down in front of the place? It's like weighing an extra fifty pounds walking through this place!"  
  
"Stow that shit, soldier!" The sergeant snapped back. "Remember we're conscripts and we've got a job to do. So shut yer yap!"  
  
Pardee grumbled slightly, but quietened down. The foremost soldiers took position behind available cover and signalled for Byrnes and some other soldiers to move forward.  
  
Byrnes hastily sprinted ahead, his feet squelching unpleasantly with each step. Sweat trickled into his eyes, mingling with the lukewarm rain. He quickly rubbed it, and looked into the thick pea-souper ahead.  
  
A bright light, too bright to be an insect, caught his eye. As he looked closer, he saw the outlines of another light. He quickly indicated the squad to follow him. The humans rushed down the hill, heading towards the artificial light. As they got closer, they saw more, arranged to show a muddy path.  
  
They thundered down the path, seeing clearly a large and unnatural structure. They headed in, stopping at an open-air elevator.  
  
"Okay, people." The sergeant ordered, "I want you to secure this area and wait for reinforcements, which should be coming shortly. Just hold tight, and we can get out of here soon."  
  
Byrnes sighed, and checked his newly-acquired machine gun. He looked up at the remainder of the squad, who all looked weary, but also, slightly afraid. He didn't blame them. There was just something so claustrophobic about this place...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Idaho and Ingsley strode out of the Silent Cartographer, their uneven paces providing an unsteady staccato across the stone floor. Once they were far from the area, Idaho turned to Ingsley.  
  
"You are a Mentat, Ingsley. Tell me, do you think this plan will work?"  
  
Ingsley paused, and thought momentarily, gnawing on his carmine-red lips. "I am not sure. I do not consume melange. I do not have prescient abilities."  
  
"But you are a Mentat." Idaho repeated. Ingsley sighed.  
  
"This is true. Yes, the plan does seem to be feasible, but a lot of it is dependant on luck. Whether the 'thopters and tanks can occupy the enemy ships, whether the 'weapons cache' shows any promise... It's a bit too uncertain for my tastes."  
  
"Can you see an alternative?"  
  
Ingsley's eyes scanned the surrounding area, checking as to whether there was anyone around them. "I could see... a slight alternative."  
  
"Explain."  
  
"If we manage to avoid the Covenant for the set amount of time for Spacing Guild checking, we could receive enough reinforcements to over- power the Covenant and occupy the Halo. We have control over the interdimensional transporter, why are we so set in removing such a useful piece of technology? Once the Covenant were eliminated, we could start establishing links to other galaxies..." Ingsley trailed off and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Why would we want to do that?"  
  
"From the limited time I had inspecting the Halo's databanks, I discovered something slightly... extraordinary."  
  
"Explain."  
  
"It was a data file marked counter-measure species. I had a little look through it, and I found biological indexes for thousands upon thousands of aliens, not under the rule of the Covenant. But what really got my attention was that there was a listing under humans."  
  
Idaho cleared his throat unsteadily. "What do you mean? That someone was spying on us?"  
  
"Yes! There was a huge essay detailing our history; from the ruling of the cymeks to the Butlerian Jihad to the lineage of the Emperors, the Bene Gesserit and Tleilaxu, the Ix and Richese, the Great Houses... I found out about a few things which were classified information!" Ingsley continued.  
"There was a detailed manual on the training of Mentats, something called 'Project Amal' a secret plot that took part during the rule of Shaddam IV... but what really caught my eye was another data file."  
  
"Why, what was it about?"  
  
"It was entitled; 'Other human societies'."  
  
Silence enveloped the two men. Idaho's foot began to tap. His gaze slowly met Ingsley's frantic eyes. "Are you telling me..."  
  
"Yes! I couldn't believe it, but there are other humans in these different realities! Think of what we could benefit! Who cares what the Bene Gesserit want! They have demanded too much from the universe, but we have the chance to defy them, once and for all!" Ingsley grasped Idaho's shoulder. "Think about it!"  
  
Idaho nodded, and began to think. "You shall have to wait, Ingsley, but I shall return with a decision."  
  
Ingsley nodded and walked off, his footsteps reverberating throughout the subterranean installation. Idaho thought.  
  
I may be a simple soldier, but I can sense multiple strategies outwith the battlefield. Ingsley seemed to be very interested in this, but I know Mentats. They never excite so easily. So why...?  
  
What could we benefit if we contacted these other races? Well, besides from the Bene Tleilaxu gaining new cellular cultures, but then again, they use no Mentats bar their 'twisted' stock, but Ingsley is obviously not twisted, so why... of course- economic gain! Idaho could see it all now.  
  
Ingsley must be one of the CHOAM agents I suspected to be on this voyage. He would be keen to establish contact to other societies because of the trade benefits, which CHOAM would advantage from... A subtle business indeed...  
  
Idaho walked off. He had no love for the Bene Gesserit, but he also had no love for CHOAM. If they desired to make him a puppet, he would not do so. Instead, he would do what he was ordered to do; destroy Halo...  
  
But then again...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Aeroeals'Haron sat on the floor of his quarters, his mind racing. His thoughts and calculations had started to increase in complexity. Mind- wrangling calculations of physics and science were increasingly simple to him. His gaze traversed the room, not just seeing it in itself, but calculating the length, breadth, height, volume... all in a matter of seconds without instruments of measurement.  
  
Could it be down to the human substance?  
  
He had only sampled a small volume of the melange, tasted its heady sweetness and spice, feeling the grains quickly pass through the lining in his mouth, as if it was too eager to be merely digested...  
  
At first, it was disconcerting. The bay seemed to stretch and glow, his inner ear seemed to unbalance, but then the true power of the spice shone through.  
  
From watching their movements, he could tell if soldiers had been sent to breaks or sent to do work, he managed to calculate how many containers there were in the bay in a shorter time then it took one to withdraw a counting machine to do the job. He managed to accurately find out how much the captured goods weighed, he saw the first glimpses into the workings of both the human lasgun and the Holtzman generator.  
  
Hurriedly he had tried to write down these thoughts, while the stock- takers watched him with alarm. With five minutes of melange-fuelled work, he had managed to do three shifts-work.  
  
Then he excused himself, realising that his newfound abilities were causing some concern. How could he have gained them? Was it Melange?  
  
Of course, said his hyper-analysing brain, by using the main component of the spice, and linking it with the trace elements, nervous signals in the brain are sent.... His mind descended furiously into biological-mathematics.  
  
He had never felt this way before. He lifted a shaking hand, to jot down the importance of this mineral, but the outside world seemed so slow in comparison to himself. Somehow, he managed it, and then he fell back, his mind and body on a higher plane of existence. He was hungry, not for food or drink, but for data and problems. Anything was doable...  
  
Slowly, slowly, his eyes started to change hue to an ink-dark blue...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
At the main storage facilities, pandemonium reigned. Loading crews for 'thopters and Carryalls dodged around the heavy transporters which transported heavy-duty shells to the siege tanks. There was a constant babble of voices, but one message still carried through each and every person:  
  
We are preparing for an assault.  
  
Multi-barrelled rifles were fitted with armoured ammo feeds, missiles were inserted into firing banks, lasgun cells were charged, Holtzman generators were tested. The dull whine of turbines and the stench of motor oil permeated the air, and pilots rushed to their briefing rooms.  
  
We are preparing for an assault.  
  
Siege shells, three feet long, were being loaded into the long-ranged cannons of the siege tanks. Each had the explosive capability to demolish the most heavily armoured of fortresses. Elsewhere, smaller combat tanks revved their engines and tested their tracks for any discrepancies. Faster trikes and quads had wheels refitted, fuel tanks filled, machine guns oiled and loaded.  
  
We are preparing for an assault.  
  
Hundreds upon hundreds of rifles were handed out to conscripts. Body armour was belted into place, armoured helmets placed firmly on heads. Small knives were put into sheaths at the limbs. Hand-to-hand combat was practised and honed.  
  
We are preparing for an assault.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Byrnes aimed his rifle around the corner of the corridor, and signalled the rest of the squad to move ahead. The squad was now deep into the 'cache', as it had been termed, and tension was growing. The first few human bodies gave good reason for that tension. Those corpses had been several squads from crushers which had not landed near frigates, and it was to be expected of a few landing fatalities, but why would they be brought here?  
  
A door opened in front of them, and the squad provided overwatch while Byrnes scurried out, checking blind spots for any enemy positions. All was quiet. Another hand signal, and the squad followed him into the room.  
  
"Okay, people." It was the loud sergeant again. "We're to hold this position in order to be in reserve. The other two squads are going to try to find the weapons. Just sit tight, and we'll be home in a jiffy."  
  
The soldiers placed themselves into firing positions, and waited in that sullen, engulfing silence.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Bomoko had taken a break from monitoring the position and arrangement of troops, so Ingsley had full reign over the Halo's controls and databases.  
  
His hands flew over the light-panel. Who could have imagined such a complex machine? Humans had renounced most forms of machinery and all forms of computers in the aftermath of the Butlerian Jihad. 'Man may not be replaced' was the moral forged from the blood of uncountable people and the heat of the atomic warheads that decimated Earth, but this device... it was faster and supplied Ingsley with more information and data then he could have ever dreamed of.  
  
He opened the major database, and poured over the information stored about the alien and human societies. His hyper-stimulated brain absorbed every character, no fact avoided his gaze. Fascinating...  
  
He quickly closed the database, and searched through the machine again. After a moments thought, he produced a detailed schematic of the 'weapons cache' where the scattered soldiers had converged. A three- dimensional translucent hologram appeared, detailing the appearance of the cache and the soldier's positions. Good, good, the first squads were nearing the controls. He was about to open another schematic, when a visual alarm, one so small it had been overlooked until now, caught his eye.  
  
Most odd, he thought, his hands dancing over the panel, elaborating on the alarm. A brief description appeared: 'ALERT!WARNING!ALERT!WARNING!ALERT!WARNING! Holding pen locks compromised due to external intrusion, Flood has been released into main research facility, sending Sentinels to counter Flood release. ERROR: Sentinels not responding due to multiple drone junction failure. Alternate countermeasure: complete quarantine and sealing off of infected area. ETA for outside facility infection by Flood; Five rotas. Message Repeat 1 of 10: ALERT!WARNING!ALERT!...'  
  
Ingsley cut the message off. Most odd indeed... Flood? What was that? And what had it, or they, had to do with the weapons cache? He quickly entered a search run, looking for data about this 'Flood'. One database emerged.  
  
He read the information. His eyes widened.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Byrnes turned as the radio crackled, breaking the underground silence which had enveloped the squad. The radio operative, a hard-bitten Giede Prime native called Ein Calamar, worked the controls trying to counter the static.  
  
A few words broke out; "-ay ag... vacua- area!... -is is In... andin... to eva... repea..." The radio stuttered into indecipherable static. Calamar shook his head at the sergeant. "There's no chance of getting a clear reading this far underground, sir." He announced gravely.  
  
The radio crackled again, this time clearer. "All troops! Pull back to the surface! Retreat!" It was the other squad deeper in the facility. "Fall back! Do not stand your ground!" A sound of heavy gunfire, then screaming, an incoherent yell. "Run! Ru-" The radio fell silent again.  
  
"Sergeant?" Pardee said, a not of fear firmly in his voice. "What do we do?" Byrnes scanned the room. What had once seemed slightly mundane and boring now seemed sinister and looming. A slight sound, like water moving over pebbles, was at the edge of his hearing, or was it his imagination?  
  
The sergeant paused, his head cocked to one side. The unusual trickling – or was it slithering? – came again. "Squad? Listen up. We are going to head back to the surface, odds first, evens providing covering fire. Double time, people."  
  
The squad moved back, following their previous trail, each corridor seeming more pregnant with danger with each step. And all the time, there was that oppressive sound, that whispering, slithering, crawling sound...  
  
Byrnes peeked around the corner, and nearly swallowed his own tongue. There was a silhouette ahead! Then his head caught up with his heart. That's a human, you can see that he is wearing armour and carrying a rifle. He turned around and relayed this information to the rest of the squad.  
  
The squad stepped out casually around the corner, and came into full view of the other person. As they saw the person in full for the first time, they stopped.  
  
The man's skin had turned an unhealthy pallor of pus-yellow. His staggering gait was uneven, as if he was drunk. His eyes had rolled back in their sockets, and a melody of gurgled nonsense came from his lips. His left arm had... had... transformed. Instead of an arm, there was a collection of bony spines.  
  
"Stay where you are!" The sergeant yelled, drawing his pistol. The rest of the squad followed suit, aiming their weapons at the person. "Identify yourself! Don't move another step!" The human stumbled forward slowly. "If you do not stop right now, I will be forced to open fire!"  
  
There was a rush of movement, and the creature flung itself forward, its stumbling steps hurtling it towards the squad. The soldiers fired, their bullets impacting against the creature. On it came. Another volley, then another and another... finally, the thing stopped, falling face down on the stone floor.  
  
The squad lowered their guns slowly, and walked cautiously to the smoking body. Slowly, slowly, the creature stood back up, its head blasted clean off its body, only its lower jaw left dangling from its neck.  
  
There was a gasp of horror mingled with disgust from one of the soldiers as it began to walk towards them again, this time, raising its weapon. One bullet impacted against Pardee's helmet, but the other rounds impacted harmlessly against the stone wall.  
  
This time, the squad's fire tore both arms off, and tore open its midriff. There was a shower of dry flesh and unhealthy grey-green blood which decorated the corridor, and the creature collapsed, quite dead.  
  
Byrnes quickly ran over to the corpse and snatched the identifying tags from around the neck of the thing, snapping the chain. He quickly scanned the harsh text. This was that Arrakis native he had seen on the Heighliner...  
  
He looked at the smoking, mutated thing, and shivered.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
The Carryall swung around ponderously, descending into the jungle- marsh mist. Farad'n, softly adjusted the manoeuvring fins, bringing the plane closer to the wetland lakes and rivers. Ingsley had sent out a call demanding that an evacuation team be prepared to extract the soldiers form the weapon cache. Farad'n couldn't see why, but then again, strategy was never his strong point.  
  
The radio operator tapped his Farad'n's helmet. "We're approaching the drop-zone, ETA in three minutes, keep it tight." The operator moved back to his seat, adjusting the on-board radio.  
  
Farad'n tried to peer through the thick swathes of condensation pooling on the Carryall's windscreen with no success. Only proximity sensors prevented him from crashing into the thick tree cover.  
  
On and on he flew, each second drawing out like a day. So tedious... He was about to ask about their ETA, when the movement sensor chimed. He peered into the murk below.  
  
Just on the verge of his sight, half-hidden by the omnipresent mist, were some running human-shaped figures. Nodding in appreciation, he cut the jets, and lowered the Carryall.  
  
Small arm fire ricocheted off the hull. A few bullets penetrated the thin armour of the cockpit, one imbedding itself into his foot.  
  
With a curse, he pulled up, bringing the ship out of firing range. The Carryall flew into a tree, breaking it in two, causing the plane to drop back into firing range. As he struggled to shift the tree of off his ship, Farad'n looked back at the running figures. They looked human, but they did not move or act like them...  
  
With a brief shock of horror, Farad'n spied one of the things hefting a rocket launcher to its shoulder...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
A brief flash in the misty air caught Jamis's eye as he swung the combat 'thopter under the mist canopy. Unlike the Carryall, the 'thopter was smaller and quicker, more adept to manoeuvring and turning on a dime.  
  
His gunner flicked on the radio. "This is 'thopter three calling Carryall flight six, flight six, do you read? Over." A mild hissing came back. "Say again, flight six. Over." More hissing.  
  
The gunner switched channels to the rest of the 'thopter group. "Do any of you jokers see flight six? Over."  
  
"This is 'thopter one. Last I saw him, he was heading upspin towards the rendezvous. I can't see him now. Over."  
"'Thopter two; negative. Over."  
"'Thopter four; negative. Over."  
  
Jamis hissed in annoyance, and continued to circle the area. His gunner tried to call back to base, while the other 'thopters tried to call the remaining conscripts.  
  
A small fire in the murky lake ahead made Jamis break out of his circling pattern. He flew towards it, and, as it got closer, realised there were more fires ahead. He skimmed over a small hillock, and came across the remainder of the Carryall.  
  
As the gunner relayed this new development to the rest of the team, Jamis hovered over the smoking wreckage, his camera-guns catching all the details he could not see.  
  
A brief flare made him pull back on the joystick, jerking the 'thopter back. Another brief light made him yaw to the left. Two rockets, their contrails lining the misty air, narrowly missed him.  
  
He pulled the straining plane up as tracer fire from all angles sprayed up at them. Some bullets stitched the windscreen, cracking, but not shattering, it. He raised his eyes to see more indistinct shapes on a plateau they were approaching. "It's a trap!"  
  
He heard the gunner swear, then bring up the weapons systems. "I gotta admit..." He said. "I've always wanted to do this."  
  
The gunner pushed the firing stud, and the two multi-barrelled machine guns opened fire, twin tongues of fire orating a speech of metal death. The rounds smashed apart the creatures with immaculate ease, causing them to drop their weapons. One creature was unfortunate enough to have its entire torso macerated to such an extent that all that was left was a pair of staggering legs. Then its extraordinary metabolism made it realise it was in fact; dead, and it keeled over.  
  
Other bright stitches of tracer fire around him indicated that the rest of the flight were dealing with these enemies quickly. Jamis scanned the area, searching for the pick-up point, sweat trickling down his neck. His eyes flicked nervously from sensors-to-windscreen-to-altimeter, searching for another attack.  
  
The gunner tapped Jamis's head. "I'm getting a signal. I think it's the rest of the squad." He listened to the feverish squawks. "I think they're being ambushed by the same enemies we were..." He listened some more. "They're coming up to the surface. We need to get there now."  
  
Jamis banked the 'thopter towards the building, the other 'thopters falling in behind him. More gunfire sounded form the radio, and entreated pleas to hurry to the entrance.  
  
A large, rectangular opening appeared in the murky space ahead, and Jamis cut the engines, lowering the 'thopter to a few feet off of the ground. Two more 'thopter's joined him. Their rear compartments opened, but only a few soldiers could fit into each one. At the most, three each...  
  
Jamis opened a side-window, and peered out towards the rear of the craft, where the troops would be going to first. He saw one madly running figure sprint towards one of the other 'thopters, dropping his weapons as he did so. Then another, this one firing a side-arm into the entrance.  
  
Three more, then another two came out... followed by a group of shambling and staggering creatures. Jamis blinked in slow horror. They were sick parodies of humans, with flesh sloughing from bones and bones twisted beyond repair, but despite their deformities, they were catching up with the soldiers...  
  
The last 'thopter descended, its machine guns delivering a chatter of burning metal. The horde dissolved under the onslaught, limbs blown off and hunks of flesh liberally decorating the outside of the facility.  
  
"What about the rest of the squads?" Came a yell from one of the other 'thopter pilots. "Screw 'em! They're dead!" Replied one of the troopers. "Go, go ,go! Leave!"  
  
The 'thopters began to dust off, their engines carrying them safely up off of the ground. Jamis circled the plane over the entrance one last time, and saw it vomit out a stream of large, insect-like creatures. A veritable flood of a consuming and unstoppable alien force...  
  
Jamis realised that they had made one big mistake.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
R&R everybody. It'll be finishing relatively soon. 


	8. Pity should be cruel

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not Halo or anything else.  
  
If you are at all interested, or disinterested, please let me now. I don't know whether or no' I should continue with this fic if no-one is interested.  
  
Oh yeah, there's an autopsy here, so be warned. It gets rather.... Gribbly.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
T'lasarnum walked into the detention area, the dull sheen of the holding-pens fields giving the room a dull midnight-light aura. He nodded at the Elite who was currently on duty. The Elite bowed, respecting T'lasarnum's rank.  
  
He dismissed the guard with a hand signal, and waited for the Elite to leave. As the door shut behind him, T'lasarnum turned to face one of the holding pens.  
  
The man was haggard and grey-faced, but scars liberally adorning his head and body indicated that he was an experienced warrior. The man had been subdued after a lengthy fight, his shield protecting him from harm until a soldier had managed to bypass the field and destroy the generator.  
  
T'lasarnum deactivated the field separating him from the human. Before his hand had left the control panel, the man rushed forward, kicking out at the Ship Master's knee, trying to break it.  
  
T'lasarnum, however anticipated such an attack, and leapt back slightly, avoiding the blow. He then reached forward grabbing the man under his jaw, lifting him off of the deck. A careless flick of the hand, and the man was sprawled back in the cell.  
  
T'lasarnum drew a pistol, holding it at his side so the human could see it. The man dropped back, and slumped against the wall. T'lasarnum unclipped a personal translator, and put it to his mouth.  
  
"What is your name, human?" He barked. The man ignored him. T'lasarnum repeated the request. The man stared at him, then gave a contemptuous snort. Again T'lasarnum repeated himself. Again the man ignored him.  
  
The Ship Master's foot connected with the man's nose, splintering it in a shower of red blood. The man gasped in pain, his eyes instinctively closed tight from the blow. T'lasarnum waited for the human to stop writhing, and then repeated his request.  
  
"Colonel Bashar Halloway." He groaned. T'lasarnum nodded in approval.  
  
"First most, I apologise for that blow then. However, you were not supplying me with answers, and I could not accept that." T'lasarnum holstered the side-arm, and looked as benevolent as he could. "Now, are you willing to cooperate in this interrogation?"  
  
The man shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not."  
  
The Elite grabbed him by the throat, and threw him against the cell ceiling. Half-way down his fall, T'lasarnum kicked out lazily, slamming him against the wall with a bone-jarring thud.  
  
"Wrong answer, Colonel Bashar Halloway." T'lasarnum stated as the man huddled on the metal floor. "I'll ask again-"  
  
"Yes! Yes!" Halloway cried, tears running down his face.  
  
"Good." T'lasarnum started to pace the cell, his head cocked in thought, his toes tapping irregularly. He turned back to Halloway, and began.  
  
"My analysists have gone over written records of your universe's history." He said, holding up a portable terminal. "Most enlightening, Colonel Bashar Halloway." He tapped a few buttons, and more information flickered past his face. "Your race has survived many thousand years, having flourished twice, once when you had defeated the 'machines', and the second when 'Maud'dib' arose from..." He peered at the text. "...Arrakis. Is this not so?"  
  
Halloway nodded, cradling his bruised ribs.  
  
"I also have detailed reports on the Emperor, the Spacing Guild, the Bene Gesserit, the Bene Tleilaxu, CHOAM... I am surprised that your race has survived such a bureaucratic rule." T'lasarnum snorted. "No wonder the Gods dictated your elimination."  
  
"Your Gods?" Halloway wheezed, then snorted. "That's rich. You have no true belief. Your Gods do not exist."  
  
T'lasarnum raised his fist, then lowered it, and tipped his head to the left, and consulted the terminal again.  
  
"My Gods do not exist, is that so?" T'lasarnum mused. "I would find it hard to accept any theological points of views from a person who had all religions confirm to one through..." His tone became sardonic. "...diplomatic reasoning."  
  
T'lasarnum looked back at Halloway "You do realise that I am referring to the Commission of Ecumenical Translators and the formation of the 'Orange Catholic Bible'. I have read that book. Most amusing, with applicable and easy to remember passages, I must admit, but with no fervour, no real passion behind it."  
  
He started to pace again. "Your religion was formed in order to quell dissent and make peace, not determine what was right. Your religion was altered for the people, instead of your people altering themselves for their religion, and you have the audacity to claim my religion is false?"  
  
T'lasarnum lunged out again, picking Halloway off of the ground. "I want you to realise this, human, Colonel Bashar Halloway, or whatever you wish to address yourself. You are going to die after this interrogation, as a form of penance, but listen carefully;"  
"Even though my religion formed from violence, pain and suffering, from war and conflict and lives, we never tortured, enslaved, degraded, mutilated and humiliated anybody, and called it morally right."  
  
T'lasarnum dropped Halloway onto the floor, then tipped him so he was facing him. "Tell me what you know about the Command Centre."  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Bomoko rubbed his forehead wearily as information flickered past his face and Ingsley's frantic talking floated past his ears.  
  
"So, let me get this straight. This 'weapons cache' was not so much of an armoury, more of a research station to study some form of 'viral' type creature called: 'The Flood'. We have released these creatures, and now they are spreading around the Halo at an unimaginable rate." He looked at the other Mentat with a raised eyebrow. "Am I right?"  
  
Ingsley nodded.  
  
"And here I was thinking that this was going to be an easy mission." Bomoko muttered. "Do you have any good news for me?"  
  
"Well, several Flood swarms have overcome several Covenant positions." Then Ingsley muttered. "However, they have also overrun some of our positions too."  
  
"The group from the 'cache' managed to retrieve one Flood organisms, a 'mutated' form. We have a Suk doctor performing an autopsy on the creature." Idaho muttered from the ledge overlooking the chasm.  
  
Bomoko got up with an angry sigh, and started to pace the room. "So, we have found no weapons, released another enemy from this Halo, and lost several soldiers and a Carryall when we extracted our men from the 'cache'." Bomoko turned to Ingsley. "How did these creatures manage to do that?"  
  
"Well, despite their 'swarming' tactics and transforming biology, they are quite intelligent. Smart enough to lay traps and use technology."  
  
"Smart enough to use a Covenant ship?" Idaho asked from his crouched position on the floor.  
  
Again, Ingsley nodded.  
  
"Well, that's it, then." Bomoko stated. "We have to begin our strike as soon as possible. Send the 'thopter wings to their target ship, the tank convoy to their target ship, and I'll prepare the assault on the last two craft."  
  
He walked back over to the Command Centre. "However, I'll need to see the group who escaped from the 'cache' in the first place..."  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Aeroeals'Haron walked out of his quarters and headed towards the storage area, intent on removing a substantial portion of this miracle substance 'Melange'. It was something unique. He knew it. Clearly the Gods wished them to find this universe in order to discover this substance, for each intake of it took his psyche to another level. A level beyond normal thinking...  
  
He walked into the room, and checked for any guards around the Melange. Seeing none, he quickly extracted several handfuls and put it inside a small, easily hidden container. He backed out of the room, and bumped into a Sergeant Elite.  
  
"Apologises sir!" The Elite muttered hastily, bowing his head slightly. "I did not see you there."  
  
"Obviously not." Aeroeals'Haron replied in an annoyed fashion. "Now will you please move aside? I have many duties to attend to."  
  
The Elite bowed again, and then stopped, seeing Aeroeals'Haron's face for the first time. "Sir, do you feel well?"  
  
"More than well, my brother." Aeroeals'Haron said. If only you knew, if only you could comprehend... he thought to himself.  
  
"It's just that your eyes..." The Elite gestured vaguely. Aeroeals'Haron removed his portable terminal from its holster and switched the screen to 'mirror mode'. He nearly jumped back. His eyes had changed pigmentation from a normal yellowish hue to a stark dark-indigo ink blue. He peered closer and noted with a pang of shock that he himself could not distinguish his pupils from the rest of his eye.  
  
"A minor colouration experiment." He lied. "In order to gain a further advantage over the humans." The Elite would accept that excuse without question, Aeroeals'Haron thought quickly. However this was not foremost in his mind.  
  
Why are my eyes colouring? Is there some form of side-affect I had not anticipated...? Aeroeals'Haron walked back to his quarters, unaware that his body chemistry and metabolism was being quietly altered and changed by the Melange, making his body irreversibly addicted to it...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Doctor Abu Zide sighed and rubbed his eyebrows in an annoyed fashion, his fingers brushing the stark diamond tattoo on his forehead. He picked up an old-fashioned scalpel and activated the voice-recorder.  
  
"Autopsy commencing at 0300 hours by Old Earth time on December the thirtieth on subject one. Subject is of an unknown organism, which has suffered death from multiple physical traumas including but not limited to multiple bullet impacts."  
  
Zide switched the recorder off, walked around the dissection table, and switched it back on. "Subject has left arm completely removed due to haphazard death. Descriptions of the arm indicate that the creature had grown some form of new organ used to bludgeon opponents with, however, said limb is not present for autopsy."  
  
He placed the scalpel at the tip of the creatures' collarbone. "Fist incision occurs just below the sternum..." The blade split cold clammy flesh, cut through the breast bone, and the whole chest cavity split open with a cracking sound like a crushed mussel.  
  
"Intriguing..." Zide muttered. "Blood appears to be absent from subjects' tissues. Instead, most organs appear to be..." He sampled some of the stuff. "...a clear, grey-green, non-viscous fluid which will be sampled by other Doctors at the Suk major medical research station." He cut off the recorder, and then muttered. "That is if we ever get out of here alive."  
  
He activated the recorder. "New organs appear to have grown, six tubes from the head to a large sac-like organ under the heart and above the stomach." He cut further into the corpse, then paused, noting black flaky material being jolted out through major arteries. He adjusted the blade, cutting through the heart. He reached a sheathed hand into the cut organ, and removed a small handful of spongy black-red material. The diamond tattoo wrinkled in disgust.  
  
"Let the record note that there is still blood present in the subject, except it has clotted in the vessels." He threw the material into a tray and retched silently. "Most organs and nerves appear to be in forms of self-cannibalism, leaving only main nerves and bone structure intact."  
  
He exchanged tools. "Subjects' head has been damaged from external trauma, from when the soldiers attempted to 'subdue' it..." His eyes caught a metal sparkle. His hand quickly shot out, a snake striking, and then removed a dog tag. "Subject is wearing dog tags upon which a 'Private Jenkins, Wallace A.' has been stamped."  
  
He raised the head saw, and began to saw through the creatures' skull. A few seconds passed, and he had removed the crown. "That is queer..." Zide muttered. "Subject's brain, besides from damage from the blows to the head it received, appears to be mostly intact. In fact..." He cut through the rest of the head, and removed the brain. "...the organ is completely undamaged. However, the six new tubes from the sac-organ have penetrated the brain just behind the pituitary gland."  
  
A quick cut, and the brain was in two halves. "Tubes lead to the centre of the brain, near the end of the cerebellum. Nothing else has been altered or damaged via exposure to biological agent."  
  
Sweat trickled into Zide's eyes, as he went back to the new organ. "Beginning autopsy of sac-organ..." A few slashes, and it was eviscerated. "Good God..." He whispered, his eyes widening despite the harsh glare of artificial lighting. "There are six chambers in the organ, each one connected to one individual tube. Inside each chamber..." He swallowed, and felt slightly nauseous  
  
"Appear to be immature versions of the 'carrier' form of organism. He flicked the scalpel over the flaccid creatures. "All appear thankfully dead, with no response to external trauma. It appears as if the new organ is some form of womb for these asexually formed creatures." Zide stepped back.  
  
"Besides from these preliminary investigations by myself, I see no further change in subject's internal chemistry. Let it be known that aides shall take pictures of the remains of the autopsy." Zide switched the recorder off, left the room, taking off his surgical clothing as he did so, and then was noisily sick.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Idaho paced in front of the conscripts who had survived the 'cache' attack, and who had revealed the Flood to the humans. He turned on one foot to face them, a wisp of hair fluttering over his bald spot as he did so.  
  
"Men, you are being debriefed by me concerning your recent experience in combat. First let me apologise."  
"It was my fault letting you go out there unprepared. We thought there would be something to help us fight these creatures, and I was naïve and impatient enough to let you in there without good intelligence. Hence, you have my apologises and condolences. We've lost many a man and friend to those vile things." He bowed his head.  
  
"However, I must request you to do one last thing before we initiate our final strike."  
"You must be willing to brief all of our men on this new threat. We have arranged briefings for you to take. You have had the most experience with these creatures, so you are our best hope at defeating them."  
"Tell all the soldiers you can find how to destroy these creatures, and do so quickly. You have my blessings. The hand and will of God be with you. Dismissed."  
  
The assorted troops slowly filed out. "Except you, Pardee!" Idaho snapped. "You can stay right here..."  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Pardee sat down in the middle of the room, where two Sarduakar stood guard, their weapons armed. Bomoko and Ingsley both stood in a corner. Idaho looked at him grimly, and then cracked his knuckles.  
  
"I have to admit, Pardee, you had us convinced for a very long time." Idaho began. "Your personal record and army recruitment pass were impeccable. Because they were. We had anticipated that any spy would try to fake these papers, and so with such valid papers as yourself, we had no reason to suspect you."  
  
Idaho smiled. "However, in our anxious need to destroy this planetoid, we had overlooked one slight thing. We had forgotten there was one type of spy in this universe which could pass rigorous training for the military undetected. Do you see where I am getting at?" Pardee shook his head, angrily.  
  
Idaho continued. "During the siege of the first frigate, my eye code was acknowledged by a sealed door, one which was used to quarantine an area where you and a Private Byrnes were stationed." Idaho smiled in a condescending manner. "Now, I do not remember being present on that ship when the siege was occurring. Neither can I remember being at that area where you were defending. Do you know of such a person who can fake an eye scan?" Pardee shook his head, slowly.  
  
Idaho continued. "We have some interesting information as well, Pardee. You were stationed on Wallach IV, and were picked up by the local drafting ships, where you were tested, trained etc. etc. It is a little- known fact that the conscripts are chosen before the ships land. It is not some ham-fisted approach to get quick soldiers. You see, we had our eye on you for some time now, Pardee. When you were accepted, all seemed fine. Up until a point your corpse was found floating face-down in a river with a knife in your back."  
  
Idaho raised an eyebrow. "Well, for a corpse, you certainly seem quite lively. What's your secret? Early-morning jogs? Fresh fruit and vegetables?" Pardee shook his head slightly. "Bene Tleilaxu genetic trickery? Is that right, you Face Dancer?"  
  
Pardee's expression changed in all senses of the word. His face seemed to lose distinguishing characteristics, becoming pliable and blank, like warm clay. His face changed, this time adopting the expression and features of Captain Idaho.  
  
The Sarduakar raised their weapons, but Bomoko quickly made a negative hand gesture. Pardee sneered at Idaho. "What are you planning to do to me? Keep in mind that an execution would be a gift to me. The Bene Tleilaxu would do worse if they realised I has been exposed."  
  
Idaho smiled slightly, looking quite carnivorous. "No." He made a slight hand gesture, and two more guards entered, carrying the corpse of an Elite. "I have a different plan for you..."  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Chakosba growled in annoyance from his Banshee cockpit. His strike squad had managed to track down several human groups, destroying them with righteous plasma, but none of the groups had been a serious contender for the hidden human base. For inferior creatures, he thought, they were certainly highly cunning.  
  
The flight group swung over the smoking wreckage of a group of trikes, their wheeled forms now burning hulks, their passengers melted into the liquid metal, fat and flesh running with white-hot iron. No humans were present.  
  
A chime interrupted his scanning, and a small screen formed in front of him, a message from the Ship Master of the fleet. He halted his vessel, putting it into 'hover' mode. The escort Banshees, not anticipating such a move, sped on ahead, and had to turn back.  
  
Chakosba quickly scanned the message. The Ship Master had preformed an interrogation, and received the following information of several supply depots, troop emplacements and... His eyes narrowed in hungry anticipation, the new position of the human Command Centre. He closed the message, then sent the coordinates to the rest of the flight group.  
  
Here would be a fight to please the Gods, with no doubt!  
  
&&&&&&  
  
I know these are kinda late, but hey, "better late then never":  
  
X-Over: Thanks for the input, friend, hope the updates have been entertaining and what you expected.  
  
Hate-me17: Any origin to the name? Sorry, there won't be a space- battle, but there will be a dog-fight.  
  
LXC: THERE THERE THERE! You happy? 


	9. We exist only to serve

Disclaimer: You know it, I know it, but here it is again; I own nothing  
  
&&&&&&  
  
The first and second attack flights flew out of the remaining two frigates to their targets. An aerial assault on the 'Bloody-Handed Zealot', and a ground-based attack on the 'Word of the Gods'.  
  
Jamis looked on blankly as the Carryalls flew off, carrying the siege and combat tanks, where they would meet up with the quicker quad and trike squads. He looked back at his flight group and hunched his shoulders. Three minutes ETA, no turning back. All combat 'thopters had been sent out in a diversion, in order to occupy the Covenant vessel, or the BHZ as some had started to call it.  
  
All the 'thopters with the heavy payloads; thermal bombs, bunker- busters, shells, lasguns and the like, had been equipped with Holtzman generators, but they had a tendency to short out when shielding vehicles.  
  
On the other hand, lighter 'thopters, like the one he was flying now, were equipped with no shielding. They were to be used in fighting any possible enemy fighters. Jamis had seen a few of them once or twice. Hell, he'd managed to shoot one down, but then again, it was being forced down by enemy fire to begin with, so he couldn't really convince himself that it would be easy.  
  
The flight group, as one, turned and started to fly across the Circle Sea, heading towards their target.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Pardee tried to fit the uncomfortable armour over his new and unusual frame. His appearance, that of a Covenant Elite, was bizarre for him, but it needed to be done. One technician handed him an alien rifle, which looked to him like a purple-quilled porcupine, but he took it anyway.  
  
While the humans quickly went over his appearance, and what he would say, he was recalling the original mission he was sent on by the Bene Tleilaxu, to inspect and bring back samples of any alien life. Then he compared it to his new mission; to secure an alien spaceship, and kill any who was in his way.  
  
A tough decision, he thought humourlessly, as he repeated some of the jaw-numbing alien language a Mentat was teaching him.  
  
The last piece of armour that was put on him was the tight-fitting helmet. He heard a whine, and saw alien symbols light up inside the helm, felt a field form around him. He grabbed a small knife presented to him, and hid it beneath a shin-pad.  
  
The group stepped back from him, and the Mentat Ingsley nodded his head. His hands flew over a panel, and rings of orange-white surrounded Pardee.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Bomoko sighed faintly as he saw the last of the 'thopter defence fly off to join the strike-force against the Covenant ship. Although all vessels were needed in the attack, Bomoko couldn't help but feel nervous by the lack of military presence. Only a few squads were left, all of which would be used to take over the 'God's own Wrath', the alien ship Pardee was on, once Pardee sent the signal he had secured the bridge, or whatever passed for the bridge on such a vessel.  
  
Idaho walked beside him and sat down on the tropical sand, his rodent- eyes ringed with tiredness, and his breath stinking of rachag and caffeine stimulants.  
  
"Well, Bomoko, this is the proverbial 'it', for us." He muttered, his feet shifting unconsciously from time to time. "I wonder if we shall be able to pull it off?"  
  
Bomoko fixed him with a tired smile. "Don't ask a Mentat a question if you don't want to hear the answer." He replied, taking a sip of the cranberry-red sapho juice.  
  
"Is it really, that bleak, Mentat? Tell me; is there no chance of survival?"  
  
Bomoko put the small flask to the side and put his fingers to his temples. "Most of our strategy..." he began. "Is based on chance. We have limited knowledge of our enemy's forces, little knowledge of their defences, how they react under pressure, etc. etc" Bomoko turned to Idaho. "In our training, we were always told to expect the worse with unknown chances, hence you could compensate for them in other calculations. However, I cannot compensate for the unknown chances anymore, so our chances are... astronomical, to say the least."  
  
Idaho nodded slightly, and sighed. "Tell me," he said suddenly. "Since we're all going to die, by your calculations, what does that sapho juice taste like?"  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Chakosba grinned in anticipation as the flight group headed towards the humans Command Centre. In their fanatic haste to occupy all defensive positions on the Halo, they had neglected the 'Silent Cartographer'.  
  
All Halos were pretty much the same, and the original schematics for a Halo had been sent back to the Covenant homeworld. Since all ships know had a detailed map on Halos, they had forgotten about the map-rooms on the Halos they had occupied, thinking that occupying the island would be a waste of resources.  
  
Their mistake almost cost them this battle, but Chakosba now knew he had the head of the serpent in his grasp, ready for the fatal blow.  
  
The tropical island came into view...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
The Carryall 'legs' disconnected from the Siege tanks' tread armour, and flew off, jinking through the rocky mountain outcrops. The tanks rumbled forward, heading towards the Covenant ship suspended in the mountainous region of the Halo. In order to avoid detection, the Carryalls had to drop their payloads off at least five miles away from the target, and the terrain was not the most suited for any form of treaded vehicle.  
  
Wet snow pattered against the hull of the tank, and Umman Kudu shivered from his seat. The driver gunned the engine, trying to overcome the iced surface of the mountain ledge. Thankfully, Siege tanks had heavily treaded tracks and powerful engines, designed specifically to traverse unfriendly terrain, but still, it was an unsettling experience to know that with one slip, you could be falling of the ledge of a mountain, and crash into the ground with the force that only a five-tonne tank can do.  
  
The tank slewed to the side briefly, and Kudu nearly jumped out of his skin, but the driver quickly compensated. He looked at the chronometer inside the turret. Three minutes until estimated contact. Kudu fervently wished that others would make it too.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
The beautiful sky-blue waters sped beneath the 'thopter formation, their irregular wing beats maintaining their velocity as they headed towards their target. Jamis peered at the 'thopter next to him, and nodded at the pilot, who acknowledged him with a wave.  
  
The radio crackled briefly, and the flight leader's voice crackled through. "Alright people, the BHZ is half a minute away. I want a box- formation, with combat 'thopters on the flanks, and the bombing 'thopters in the centre. Gunners, prepare your weapons. Pilots, keep your eyes peeled. We haven't had much experience with these aliens, and by God I hope it remains that way. Good luck."  
  
The 'thopter formation re-arranged, with the lighter-armed 'thopters escorting the more heavier-armed ones. Jamis heard his gunner activate primary weapons, twin-linked machine guns with a 90-degree rotational ability, and secondary weapons, light shell-burst cannons.  
  
Jamis himself deactivated the wing-drive, switching to the slower and more fuel-consuming jet turbines. They may be inefficient, he thought, but they allow a good turning circle. He looked out a side-window, and saw that most of the escort 'thopters were doing the same.  
  
A target indicator popped up on the inside of his windscreen. He watched the distance indicator scroll down alarmingly fast, and saw, out of the sea mist, the BHZ, suspended over a stony beach.  
  
The radio crackled.  
  
"Fire."  
  
&&&&&&  
  
The crew on the destroyer 'Sublime Retribution' were not quite as taxed as any of the other ships in this picket fleet. Yes, they may have been the weaker of all of them, and more likely to be defeated in a battle, but they had dropped down nowhere near any of the human ship-bases.  
  
Their ship commander had distributed a few forces here and there to secure their position, and they had sent supplies to the other vessels more in need of them, but otherwise, they had so far escaped unscathed.  
  
Major Umfraylitt'ltun strolled leisurely through the ships corridors, nodding occasionally at the various crew members. Unlike most Covenant commanders, he was quite lax, knowing there was a time for war, but also a time for peace. As a result, the soldiers he commanded were often more relaxed then the typical Covenant trooper.  
  
He passed through the bridge, nodding at the Elite on duty, and stepping around several of the slumbering Grunts. An urgent chime from the Communications post caught his attention. A brief static burst, and there was the sound of a battle.  
  
"This is the 'Word of the Gods' to all ships in the fleet, we are under attack by human forces. I say again, human forces. We are unable to escape area; they have caught us in a crossfire! Repeat, we are under attack!" The communication link was deactivated.  
  
Umfraylitt'ltun looked at the on-duty Elite pensively and opened a comm-link to the entire ship using the same post. "Brethren! Prepare yourselves! We have just received a distress call fr-"  
  
There was a brief flash of orange-yellow, and an arrangement of light- rings appeared above the centre of the podium. The rings dissipated, and a two-foot high metallic cylinder was left in place. Umfraylitt'ltun drew his side-arm, and pointed it at the new object. The slumbering Grunts had awakened, and were now in a mild state of panic.  
  
There was a sudden inflow of messages from the rest of the ship: "This is the main armoury, we have had an alien obje-" "Engineering here! What's going on? There's som-" "This is the maintenance crew reporting that an unidentified device has just appeared from some sort of phenomena..."  
  
Umfraylitt'ltun heard where all the reports were coming from and his mind raced. Why would the humans be teleporting...  
  
He realised the instant the atomics detonated.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
The twin 'Groundshaker' shells spat out from the Siege tanks' cannon, flying straight at the Covenant ship. Both projectiles smashed home, their high-yield explosives being absorbed by the Covenant shielding. Another two shells collided with the ship, then another, and another.  
  
Kudu covered his ears as the main cannon fired again, the recoil pushing him into his chair. When the ringing finally abated, he peered through the oil-glass scope to see the shells collide, but cause no damage. To his mounting annoyance, weapons fire from the surface of the craft started to pepper the areas where some tanks were, but the ship was entirely surrounded. Their first shots had knocked out the Covenant sensors, making them effectively blind in a navigational sense, but then the aliens had managed to activate the shielding, preventing any further damage from the tanks for now.  
  
There were the sliding and clunking sounds of the new shells loading into the breach, and Kudu aimed the turret at a new point. These shields seemed to make the Covenant invulnerable, but through enough mud at a wall...  
  
He saw through the scope the first of the dropships fly out from the launch bays of the Covenant ship, and swore angrily.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
The first wave of bunker-buster missiles flew ahead of the main 'thopter force, screaming towards the BHZ with a relentless determination. Three managed to smash into the ship, their 'Heavy Tungsten'-tipped warheads penetrating the armour before the payload exploded, widening the gap. The rest of the missiles impacted against the shields, giving a shimmer of green-blue around the ship, but causing no further damage.  
  
The radio crackled. "Listen up, those shields may look tough, but they're not invulnerable. I want all lasgun-armed 'thopters, yes lasgun- armed, to open fire on the ship. When the shields are out, we drop the main payloads on them. The rest of you, keep your eyes open for enemy bandits and avoid that fire!"  
  
Purple-blue flashes from the BHZ's surface flew out to meet the 'thopters advance. Jamis rolled away from it, but a nearby 'thopter detonated in a spectacular fireball, spinning earthwards before slamming into the shallow surf.  
  
The foremost 'thopters fired with their lasguns, purplish beams slicing forward, cutting at the shields of the Covenant, but the shields still held. The flight group split up and around the ship, a river around a stone, twisting at get another run at it.  
  
"Keep your cool, man!" Jamis yelled to his gunner. "Don't waste any ammo on the big sucker just yet, okay?" The gunner nodded.  
  
Jamis turned his head in time to see the first wave of Banshees fly out of the launch bays...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
The orange-yellow light dispersed, and Pardee quickly checked his position. Ingsley had chosen a rather abandoned part of the ship for him to teleport to, and thankfully, no-one was there.  
  
Pardee walked around the corridor, the Covenant armour clanking slightly as he moved. He shifted his shoulders, trying to dislodge a particularly annoying piece of armour which was digging into his neck.  
  
He took the next left, heading towards the bridge, when suddenly, it struck him:  
  
Where was everyone?  
  
This may have been an alien vessel, with unknown ceremonies and suchlike, but it would seem highly unlikely that an entire crew would take a spontaneous break. In fact... Pardee looked around the corridor... nothing seemed to have been here for some time.  
  
He drew the Needler, and advanced slowly, taking the next right, and walking up a ramp, just missing the soft patter of congealing purple blood pooling from a grate.  
  
Pardee paused again, and shook his head. Did he hear water? Some type of a slithering...?  
  
The door in front of him opened, and all hell broke loose.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Bomoko checked his wrist-strap chronometer. "Pardee should be well within the 'God's Own Wrath', now." He looked back up at the darkening tropical beach. "Once he gives the signal that he's secured the area, we'll teleport the rest of the crew here to the ship, and secure it."  
  
Idaho nodded slightly, his eyes focused on a spot above the sea.  
  
A conscript walked up to them, his rifle slung at a casual angle. He saluted stiffly, then; "Trooper Byrnes, sir. Just to let you know I'm taking this watch now, sir. You can take a rest now."  
  
Bomoko nodded thankfully, and stood up awkwardly, brushing loose sand from the folds in his clothes. Byrnes offered his hand to Idaho, who took it and pulled himself up, but his eyes stayed on that same spot.  
  
"Tell me Byrnes, you've got the better eyes of the two of us, can you see anything just above the water, about thirty feet above a point a kilometre away in that direction?" Idaho pointed out a direction.  
  
Byrnes squinted at the position, and then laughed nervously. "Well, sir, it looks like as if there are a few stars moving slowly about that place." He looked again, harder this time. "I wouldn't worry sir; they look like meteors, small space-born meteors. We used to get them all the time on Ecaz."  
  
"Yes..." Idaho said, his voice distant. "But on Ecaz, you had a horizon. Meteors were in the sky. These lights are against the Halo, see?"  
  
"Excuse my input sir, but I reckon it's nothing to be concerned about."  
  
Silence, then;  
  
"Tell me, Byrnes, just a slight, unnecessary question, but what gives the effect of a few meteors firing off a barrage of plasma?"  
  
Byrnes swallowed. "I think that'd be caused by plasma weaponry, sir."  
  
"Spot on, private." Idaho started to run off in the other direction, heading towards the Silent Cartographer. "Follow me, trooper!"  
  
Byrnes quickly scrambled across the beach, Idaho and Bomoko in front of him, and a veritable hail of plasma fire scorching and melting the sand behind him. There was a drone like a large beetle, and three dropships ponderously flew overhead. A few gun-turrets opened fire, only to be silenced by the purple-blue plasma turrets slung under the ships.  
  
He sprinted up the grassy slope, heading towards the Silent Cartographer. As he reached the stone-hewn building, he looked back at the dropships. All had stopped over the beach in a line, then all three, as one, descended, and opened their side doors.  
  
Byrnes ran deep into the building, swearing every step he took.  
  
Chakosba landed the Banshee on the loose sand and clambered out, drawing out his trusty plasma sword. He gazed at the crack troops arranged in front of him. All of them were loyal, zealous and fanatical. The perfect soldiers. He raised his sword above his head, and then pointed it at the building where the humans were hiding in.  
  
As one, the soldiers advanced, their weapons ready.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
"I got dropships! I got dropships at three o' clock!" Screamed a combat tank commander. Kudu opened the turret hatch, and peered out in the dampening sleet. Sure enough, there were two dropships slowly drawing to a halt, only fifty metres away.  
  
Kudu swung the cupola machine gun around to face the dropships. The turret rocked and a blast of sound nearly toppled him as another two shells continued the relentless bombardment of the Covenant vessel.  
  
The combat tank fired upon one of the dropship, a shell slamming into the rear of the ship, blasting apart the shade gun. The side doors opened in response, and a few blurry shapes fell out. A brief flurry of snow obscured Kudu's vision, but he saw three green objects head towards the combat tank. There was a large explosion as all three fuel rods cracked open the tank and the explosives ignited the fuel and shells.  
  
The tank seemed to explode in slow-motion, its turret blasted clean off the main body, both tracks flailing as they snapped, the hull buckling and shearing outwards, causing pieces of metal to fly outwards accompanied by a rose-red explosion which scorched the snow-swept skies.  
  
Kudu pulled the trigger, the weapon buckling wildly as it unleashed a torrent of metal. There were a few screams, or was it just the wind? Kudu didn't know. The sky was too saturated with snow and sleet to see.  
  
Another blast rocked the tank, and Kudu steadied himself, looking up at the ominous shape of the Covenant cruiser. The shells detonated, but the blue-halo shield still deflected the blast. All of their shots seemed to cause no damage, and more tanks were starting to be destroyed...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
"Enemy ships above and behind us!"  
  
"I know! I know!" Jamis screamed at his gunner. "Stop yelling!" He pulled back on the joystick, sending the 'thopter up into the skies, then he dived suddenly, bracing himself for a possible blackout.  
  
Blue spheres flew past him, a veritable flock of them. He rolled, diving and twisting, heading underneath the BHZ. The Banshees followed him relentlessly, firing non-stop.  
  
He spun the 'thopter around, trying to catch them off. The three pursuing Banshees flew off, one of them heading back towards the dogfight around the main ship, the other two yawing to get him back in their sights.  
  
The 'thopter screamed as it flipped and turned, the forces nearly tearing it apart. One of the Banshees came up in front, its purple armour glinting in the low light. The gunner fired, both machine guns spitting metal death at it.  
  
Orange-red tracer rounds stitched the sky as the bullets flew by and around the Banshee. A sheet of purple metal flew off, followed closely by a trail of smoke, then fire. The Banshee slowly fell, spinning as it did so, slamming against the gritty sea.  
  
The 'thopter jarred as a plasma sphere hit it. Jamis swung up, avoiding the rest of the strafe, but the Banshee was hot on his tail. "Hey! Hey! This 'thopter three calling the rest of the flight group! I got a bandit on my tail! Anybody reading me?" The Banshee fired off a fuel rod, and Jamis swung to the left. "C'mon guys! A little help!"  
  
The Banshee was jolted to the side as a shellburst exploded slightly behind it. Another shell was fired, this time destroying it completely in an orange-yellow explosion. "This is 'thopter seven to 'thopter three, you okay there?" The radio crackled. Jamis sighed then flicked the reply switch. "I'm fine. How're the odds?"  
  
"We've got at least forty enemy fighters up here, and those shields are still holding. Fly close to the BHZ, watch out for the turret fire, and you'll be fine." The radio cut out as the other 'thopter flew up, its cannons spitting at the Covenant Banshees.  
  
Jamis nodded and swung back up, firing off a couple of shells at the belly of the ship, causing the shielding to buckle, but not break.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Plasma fire and bullet fire burned the air in front of him. Covenant soldiers were screaming in hatred and disgust as wave upon wave of Flood fell upon them. Pardee saw one Grunt scream and cry in pain like a child as the carriers jumped on him, infecting him relentlessly. A comrade threw a plasma grenade at him as he fell to the ground. The blue explosion wiped out the small creatures before they could mutate the Grunt.  
  
One combat-form was staggering about in an almost comical manner with no arms or head. An Elite shoulder-barged it smashing it to the ground, then roasted it's torso with plasma fire.  
  
All the while more and more of the Flood poured out of a corridor, and it was obvious that the Covenant could not hold them for long. Pardee paused. Ingsley and Bomoko had not counted on the Flood attacking this ship, but he could not get to another ship in time, or communicate with them...  
  
A gold-clad Elite fell, his body riddled with bullets. Pardee glanced at the broken corpse, then at the fire-fight.  
  
For the first time, Pardee didn't know what to do.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
They'll be more a-coming soon! Keep those reviews rolling in! Okay I'm lying. Reviews have never 'rolled in' for me, but review anyway, please?  
  
Hate-me17: Thanks for the review, like, hoped you like this little snippet of a dog-fight, more'll be coming soon. If you have any recommendations on how to make the action more readable, please let me know.  
  
W1REF1RE: That's a good term; 'floodified'. Yes, I was wondering if anyone noticed the 'in-joke' with Jenkins, you're very sharp to have noticed it. There a quite a few others as well, see if you can spot them. 


	10. In conclusion

Disclaimer: Looked dead, didn't I? Well, I wasn't... Sorry about the lack of updates, people. Remember, if you liked, hated or had no thoughts either way about this fic, please review.  
  
Oh yeah, I don't own anything.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
A flash of heat passed over Idaho's face, and he ducked instinctively, drawing his pistol and rapier in quick succession. Another blistering hail of plasma fire crackled in the corridors ahead, followed by yells and shouts.  
  
Purplish beams burned the air, giving a sharp and metallic smell in the corridors. Idaho silently cursed. With the lasguns in constant use, he couldn't activate his shield, and he felt ridiculously exposed because of it.  
  
There was the sound of rushing feet, and a group of soldiers retreated hastily from the main room, the sound of alien victorious gibberish in their wake. Idaho peered around the door, just in time ducking to avoid more enemy fire. He only spotted them for a few seconds, but he saw by the way that they stood, moved and were dressed... these were more dangerous than any other Covenant force.  
  
He followed the retreating squad, praying that Pardee would infiltrate the Covenant ship soon...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Jamis cut the engines, banking the 'thopter into a stall turn, avoiding the crossfire as best he could. The 'thopter slammed to the side as a bolt burned into the side of the ship, knocking it off course. He pulled back on the joystick, pulling the 'thopter up from its dive, spinning as he did so.  
  
The air around a bomber 'thopter shifted and blurred as the Holtzman generator overloaded. The enemy fire cut it in two, sending both pieces to the stony ground.  
  
Jamis yelled in anger, rage and hopelessness. From an entire flight group of combat 'thopters, there was only a handful left. He trailed a Banshee, both chin-mounted cannons quickly puncturing a plasma chamber, broiling it into pieces. Another Banshee came into view. The cannons rotated, but no bullets came out.  
  
"We're out!" He screamed, feeling truly helpless. He wanted to eject from the 'thopter, hide in a forest and just weep. All too quickly a barrage of plasma smashed into them from above them. Jamis felt the hairs on his neck burn and his skin blister. He heard the gurgling cry of his gunner as he melted, then burned.  
  
As he raised his eyes, seeing another two 'thopters explode into flame, he also saw the shielding glare once, then vanish in a sparkle of light.  
  
"The shields are down!" A 'thopter pilot cried. "Let 'em have it!"  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Umman Kudu yelled as plasma bolts spattered off of his tank, heating it up uncomfortably. There was the sound of heavy machine-gun fire, and the barrage stopped. Kudu tried to move the turret, but it had been fused into pointing in one direction.  
  
The gun fired again, rocking the much abused tank back. The shells hit home, the shielding blazing, fading... growing brighter...  
  
Another shell slammed into it from another tank, this time cancelling the shields out.  
  
Kudu yelled in victory, pressing the firing stud of the main cannon.  
  
A whining sound, like a mewling of a dying cat, sounded, and nothing happened.  
  
He pressed the stud again.  
  
Again, nothing happened.  
  
The reloading mechanisms had been destroyed.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
The door to the bridge of the God's own Wrath opened, and Aeroeals'Haron walked through, his movements sharp and irregular, accompanied by another Elite soldier.  
  
"There's a human soldier among us!" He barked. "It has some sort of ability to disguise itself. It could be any one of us!"  
  
The Elite at the bridge breathed out in horror, turned to check the sensors for human life-signs. Aeroeals'Haron twisted on one foot, slamming the Needler into the Elite's neck, breaking it with a sharp, short sound. He spun around again, flinging a knife from his left shin-pad. The blade imbedded into the bridge Elite's temple, and it collapsed.  
  
Aeroeals'Haron walked ran forward to the bridge, his steps becoming more irregular. Half-way to his destination, his stature became shorter, his face became soft and pliable, morphing and distorting extraordinarily. His height lowered, his skin paled, like rotted-milk, and his hands grew smaller.  
  
Pardee walked up, shrugging off his armour, in his true, 'template' form. His hands flew over the indecipherable Covenant controls, doing as Ingsley had instructed him. All the doors shut and locked. He reached for the communication device in his ear.  
  
There was a slamming sound, and Pardee found himself skidding along the floor, stopping when he collided against a column.  
  
"Oh no..." Aeroeals'Haron muttered, his now fully-blue eyes twitching slightly. "We can't let you do that now, can we..."  
  
&&&&&&  
  
There was a charging cry, and the Covenant burst through the barricaded door, firing their weapons inanely. One soldier was literally vaporised by the fire, and three others were downed in as many seconds.  
  
The remaining soldiers fired from their nearby strongpoint, but the aliens had the upper level. Slowly, slowly they were pushed back, unable to stop the juggernaut of the attack team.  
  
Chakosba jumped down a level, rolling as he landed. A human drew a long knife and charged, switching blade hands to confuse him. Chakosba dodged the first blow, side-stepping quickly. The second blow he ducked under. The third blow he blocked with his arm, his shielding flickering slightly.  
  
A sudden blur of movement, and the human's arm was trapped between Chakosba's arm and torso. He forced the arm out, hearing it snap, and then swung around, planting a plasma grenade on the human. As it staggered back, Chakosba kicked out, sending it towards the remaining humans, whereupon the grenade detonated  
  
Chakosba laughed, drawing his plasma sword as he did so. At a hand signal, the remainder of the team swept forward, securing the room. There were only so many places the humans could retreat to. Chakosba knew it, the rest of his team knew it, but sweetest of all, the humans knew it.  
  
Ingsley looked up at the sound of running feet to find Bomoko, Idaho and the remaining squadron rush in, taking up defensive positions as they closed and locked the door. Almost immediately there was a battering, a steady beat at the portal, and it bulged outrageously. Ingsley clenched his teeth as he came to the only conclusion.  
  
He looked at the controls for the teleportation system around Halo, and looked at the ship they were planning to go.  
  
He thought quickly, planning and constructing escape routes in his mind. They had no choice...  
  
He activated the teleporter just as the door opened.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Aeroeals'Haron kicked and punched out, causing Pardee to block and dodge frantically. His senses were strengthened by the Melange, and he knew he should have the upper hand in this fight, as it was against a normal human...  
  
It isn't a normal human he thought, absent-mindedly blocking two jabs and a haymaker. You saw what it could do. Therefore, I do not know its limitations.  
  
He spun away, and then delivered a two-fisted blow to the creature's chest. It blocked it with a move from the sacred arts of the prophets. Aeroeals'Haron stepped back, his mind racing. How could it know of such moves and martial abilities? Unless...  
  
Unless it could completely mimic its opponent!  
  
The thought shocked Aeroeals'Haron slightly, and he almost dropped his guard. Even so, two punches smashed into his face, and a kick nearly shattered his leg.  
  
He must kill the human quickly, or it would surely be equal to him... His mind raced as if his life depended on it. Reality seemed to distort and waver as he pondered his next move. He looked around, retreating to the lip of the ramp to the bridge.  
  
Pardee shoulder-barged blindly, sending him stumbling backwards over the body of the bridge Elite. He rushed up, sending an axe-kick to the Covenant's throat.  
  
Aeroeals'Haron caught the blow with both his wrists, feeling bone scrape against bone under it. His own foot lashed out, smashing into the human's groin. As it collapsed over in agony, he thrust the knife out that he had taken from the corpse he had tripped over.  
  
The blade penetrated the chest and punctured the heart. Pardee looked on in surprise, then collapsed, dead.  
  
Aeroeals'Haron stood up, and called up the schematics on ship's status. He tilted his head side to side as data flowed from all directions, a veritable stream of information, detailing the advance and retreat of Flood, human and Covenant forces. The Melange allowed him to form conclusions from the data, the prescience abilities of the spice showing him what would happen if he did this...  
  
Or that...  
  
He shut off the schematics, and ran out of the bridge, hastily swallowing another handful of spice as he did so. He had only one chance to escape with his life, and he intended to take it.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Jamis ripple-fired the remaining rounds from the shellburst cannon, the rounds detonating against the BHZ, but not causing any real damage. More plasma fire spattered around the air, leaving flashes in his eyes when he closed them. He had no more weapons bar his skill.  
  
He swung near the cruisers' surface, attracting its fire while remaining comfortably out of range. He circled around, watching both the plasma spheres and the last bombing run.  
  
The last of the heavy 'thopters headed towards the BHZ, and fired.  
  
The bunker-busters splintered the purple armour, which expanded outwards as the high-yield explosives detonated inside the ship. Static discharges flashed around the gaping wounds, giving them an unreal appearance. Thermal bombs crashed into the top of the ship, superheating the metal into dripping slag. Lasguns quickly dissected the armour, and armour-piercing shells blew apart internal systems.  
  
The BHZ shuddered and banked, heading towards the ground slowly, the suspensor generators destroyed beyond repair. The last seven 'thopters from a group of one hundred banked off and away, leaving a burning hulk in their wake. Crippled, but not destroyed.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Kudu quickly piled the last crewman out of the tank and jumped off of it himself. He was already running before he landed, the sticky snow freezing his exposed body. The crew trudged as fast as they could through the terrain, just as their tank exploded in a giant fiery sphere, pieces of white-hot metal scything through the air.  
  
Kudu pulled his pistol and fired off ineffectively at the circling Banshee, which turned and started strafing his position. All of the crew began to run, the plasma spheres boiling the snow behind them.  
  
There was a deafening explosion, and an invisible force slammed Kudu face-down into the snow, crushing him cruelly into the ground. The Banshee yawed and veered wildly, spinning up into the cloudy air. Kudu looked back at the Covenant cruiser.  
  
A giant breach had appeared in its flank, fires raging inside the ship. More explosions dotted the surface, from internal and external forces. The ship tipped to one side, blue and green fires giving it a will- o'-the-wisp halo. One final tank volley and the ship cracked in two as energy nodes overloaded and structural integrity collapsed completely.  
  
The Covenant ship was destroyed.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Orange teleport rings appeared in the bridge of the God's own Wrath, revealing only Bomoko. He walked forward and looked at the Covenant control panels, noting Pardee's stunted corpse staining the walkway. He quickly scanned the information, gathering the data which Aeroeals'Haron had viewed only minutes before.  
  
His mind quickly calculated and analysed the data, and he fell back, realising what had happened. The gambit had failed. They had no chance of leaving. All other ships had been incapacitated, and the Flood were taking over this ship.  
  
Bomoko realised finally the danger hidden within the Halo, and he realised why the Bene Gesserit wanted it to be destroyed. No human, not CHOAM, not the Bene Tleilaxu, not even the Emperor himself could know what happened here. Neither could the Flood leave this Halo.  
  
He pulled out a hand-held detonator from his pocket, and armed it. His thumb hovered over the red button, his mind going over one last check of the data he had approximated. There was no other choice.  
  
He pushed the button.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Idaho quickly spun around; holding the rapier above his head in a defensive position, then lowered it when there was no enemy to fight against. A quick scan of his position showed that most of the troop was here, except...  
  
"Where's Bomoko?" One of the troopers, Byrnes, asked. Idaho scanned the green valley again, but saw only Ingsley, who shrugged his shoulders quizzically. Idaho looked around again, then realised something.  
  
They were in a valley untouched from any of the battles. No-one had stopped here. There were the occasional chirps of an insect, the sound of falling water, but nothing else. Just green trees and plants. Just life.  
  
There was a flash of light, and a giant explosion appeared about thirty miles away, the blast tearing the ground apart. As the fires receded, Idaho could see stars glinting in the wound.  
  
Another two explosions, equidistant from the original blast occurred, this time the squad felt the detonations. Idaho recalled a small quote as he saw the one of the new explosions recede fifteen miles away.  
  
'O, Man! Here is a lovely portion of God's Creation; then, stand before it and learn to love the perfection of Thy Supreme Friend.'  
  
As the air around them blew away, out through the gaps, Idaho finally managed to see a meaning in that quote. He was not a religious man, but he saw perfection, and realised why they were here, and Bomoko was not.  
  
He closed his eyes as he felt the earth tremble beneath them, the atomics detonating, destroying them as they were surrounded by an Eden.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Jamis saw a column of steam flash through the remaining flight group. The sea beneath them trembled and disappeared. He looked up, and saw the massive artificial world crack and splinter.  
  
He let go of the control stick, wondering what was going on. Lights around him darkened as the electronics fried and burned. He looked at them, and sighed, realising what was going on. They were dead, and he knew it.  
  
He flew the 'thopter into the boiling sea as the Halo around him shattered and collapsed.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Kudu looked up at the first few explosions, seeing them on the opposite side of the ring from his position. As each atomic broke the Halo apart, he looked on in amazement as loose soil and snow slowly rose off of the ground, and began to float off.  
  
His own movements became light, and he too began to fall of the ground. The air grew cool, even as the last of the atomics detonated, completely destroying the Halo.  
  
The final atomic detonated beneath his feet, just as he froze and asphyxiated to death from exposure to the vacuum of space.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Aeroeals'Haron looked at the spinning pieces of the Halo, and grinned, his now completely blue eyes shining with what looked like impish glee.  
  
He turned back to the control panel, and tapped in the directions to the nearest Halo from his position, then put himself into suspended animation. What none of the humans had realised was that there was a Sephra fighter in the dock of the God's own Wrath. Indeed, not even the Ship Master or that dreadful Chakosba had realised it either.  
  
He quickly sucked a handful of Melange before he sat back, the drug slowly bringing his mind to a higher plane of existence as the ship ceased his metabolism utterly.  
  
The last survivor fled from the Halo, a soul escaping from a dead body.  
  
&&&&&&  
  
FINIS  
  
Let me say thanks to all my reviewers, but that's gonna be my only story for a while. See ya. Although, I do agree with Hate-me17. Where are you, Bombsquad? 


End file.
